































aiss T7.7 

Rook 

rRi .73 

Copyright N 

" Tv 


COPyRIGHT DEPOSm 







BOOKS BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID 


IRimroD JBDition 


ILLUSTRATED 

Boy Hunters ; or, Adventures in Search of a White 
Buffalo. 

Bush Boys. Adventures of a Family in South 
Africa. 

Young Voyageurs. The Boy Hunters in the North. 

“ Now-a-days, in place of lecturers, the world of little folks 
has its race of story-tellers who are ‘boys with the boys’ and 
are none the less efficient for being cheerful. Among these the 
Captain is at the head of the company, and right worthily does he 
perform his office.” — London AthencBum. 

G. P. PUTNAM’S sons' 

NEW YORK & LONDON 


I 



s 





% 


t 



1 







\ 



I 

f' 

* i 


4 


i ■ 


1 


( 




> 


I 


y 


I 

t •" 



I 


I 



i 

r ' 


I 




I 













mti 


mm 








i 








'V- 




’i5 


^Wm. 












* 


rvk-ft 














•**i4Nstd 


THE CARIBOU AND THE WOLVES, 


IHimroJ) j££>ttion 


THE 

YOUNG VOYAGEURS 

OR THE BOY HUNTERS 
IN THE NORTH 


BY 

CAPTAIN MAYNE REID 

I » 

AUTHOR OF “the BOY HUNTERS,” “ THE DESERT HOME,” “ THE 
FOREST EXILES,” ETC. 



ILLUSTRATED 


O 

> 


G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS 


NEW YORK LONDON 

27 WF.ST TWENTY-THIRD STREET 24 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND 

^ttickerbotlur l^rtss 

1896 





Copyright. 1896 

BY 

G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS 
Entered at Stationers’ Hall, London 


/Z'ijfyz, 


♦ e, 
f c « 



Ube IRnicberbocbet; iprcss, mew 


KIND FATHER 

GENTLE AND AFFECTIONATE MOTHER 


ACCEPT THIS TRIBUTE 
OF A son’s gratitude 


MAYNE REID 


PUBI^ISHERS’ NOTE. 


M AYNE REID was bom in Ireland in i8i8. 

He early developed a great interest in travel 
and adventure, and when twenty years of age he 
crossed the ocean to America. Shortly after his ar- 
rival, an opportunity offered to join an expedition 
bound for the Red River country and Reid quickly 
availed himself of this and thus gained his first expe- 
rience of the western wilds in which, later on, he spent 
so much of his time. 

In 1845, the breaking out of the Mexican War, he 
enlisted as a private in the United States army, and for 
distinguished service he received a commission as Cap- 
tain at Vera Cruz. His new rank doubtless increased 
his zeal for active and dangerous duty, for we next hear 
of him as leading a forlorn hope on the battlefield of 
Chapultepec. 

It was not until the close of this war that Reid began 
his career as a writer of fiction, and in 1849, The Rifle 
Rangers^ his first book, was published, followed shortly 
after by The Scalp Hunters^ and other tales. From 


pubUsbers' IRote 


1849 to 1873, the date of his death, there were issued 
no less than fifty-nine novels from his pen, making 
nearly two volumes per year. 

Many of these stories failed to receive any special 
public appreciation, and the majority of them, although 
at the time of their publication meeting with some sale 
and popularity, have long since been forgotten. 

And it must be confessed that no special regret need 
be felt at the short life of most of these tales, for their 
character was not such as to entitle them to a lengthy 
existence. Wildly adventurous and with the most 
sanguinary plots of border warfare, their many absurd- 
ities were only made the more prominent by the extra- 
ordinary love stories which ran through their pages. 

It is indeed somewhat surprising that the same mind 
which produced such trash as The Fatal Cord, The 
Rifle Rangers, The Golden Chief, The Finger of Fate, 
and The Queen of the Lakes, could also bring forth 
such an admirable series of boys’ books as The Boy 
Hunters, The Young Voyagers, The Bush Boys, and 
The Plant Hunters, all of which cannot fail to prove 
of fascinating interest to boys of healthy tastes. 

These stories are but little known to the young of 
the present generation, and in the belief that in these 
times of endless tales of adventure the better books of 
Mayne Reid should find an honoured place, the publish- 
ers of the present volume have ventured to present this 
Nimrod Edition of the boys’ books of Mayne Reid, 
vi 


* IPubUsbers^ IRote 


The normal boy craves reading matter with vigorous 
action and adventure, and no evil results from vSUpply- 
ing, in moderation, this demand with stories of wild 
life provided the tone of these tales is honest and 
manly. What Reid has accomplished in the volumes 
mentioned above is to furnish his readers with adven- 
tures which are always such as to assure a boy’s deep 
interest while the action of the stories is invariably 
healthy and vigorous. While the intention of these 
volumes is primarily to furnish amusement for a lad 
they do much more than this, for they inculcate in the 
mind of the boy who reads them carefully a manliness 
of thought, an honesty of purpose, and, above all, the 
habits of close observation and self-reliance which are 
of so great importance in the formation of the char- 
acter of the American boy. 

It is because of these qualities which are felt to exist 
in Captain Mayne Reid’s stories — qualities which un- 
fortunately are often so lamentably absent in the host 
of trash that is at present provided for boys’ reading, 
that it has been thought well to emphasise the value 
of these tales by presenting the Nimrod Edition of his 
works. 


vii 


t>. ;.. ■ • j' • ■ ' MBO * WjIhI 

aV>.-‘: ’''- .‘v •. • :a 

-.'L, '■'* “■ '■■■^?#v<;:^/‘: * ' • • ■■-^'' "- ^ v ' ' ' '''*^ ■ *’' -■ 

• s_ '■ • *•; ' ■’ H ' i» _ >• • '■_ . ■ • •• 


> . 


' « ■ 


k r ■ ■ ' / / 

--\ 4 i > 


• A 


•% 


• ■#• 



’ f» ^ «,•« . i 'to • •• ‘.v^ 




k • 


A ■ I 

"T , H 






-if 


• ^ • . ’ 4 1 < - 


‘ • / 


^ '«■- 


:^- 


t'‘ ' ''' ■; 

^v **. 




. 4 


* , 


I 





» % 


♦ .. 




VS 'T .«• « , ‘ , 

r>fX -ir •*' 




1 • 




rs . 1 . 

♦ • • \ * '. 


** 


t t 


t ' 


.k •• 




v\ 


« 9 

i^K * . « ft . 


to-; ,• '-i 

■■ - B 


, ..* ~ , J 


' ' .* 


"* ' 

* * 



'f*.. • V- . 


I . 


• -to 

• •■» * 


^ v/V. X , 









pV 



>. ;•? 


iv^; 


' V 




4 «(t - # 

« 


4 • «• 




T f <r A* "‘ ‘i t. 


^ i A t. ‘ r 


*■' 'W'V' 






toji * 


' rf-. 


( 


f. 





• j » — 

o ^ 


V ; 


■V' 




w .<■< 




S k ,. 


r.r - 


V- to* 




s..' 


» ^ « 

•#' 




- ■a^ <- V‘ • 

■ * 4 ’ • • ' T "*• \ . ' 


• 4 


> 


“»« V 


•$m Vv ^ ■ - ■^. ■» -5r ’■ I*'* V * •' ‘1’ ■ 

^ ; V ' • -'V - i ^ :x^\ - 

' '■' ■ ^ I 4 ' ■' '"' " ''"^' 

ww - "^ ^ I ■- V V - ■:’> 


' *, 



. 7 : i 


I' 


* • •' -to • .4 

‘ . -■ . * 

-Jr 1 - ^ 


I 


• i»^- 



V>J 


r-** t 




r* .•** 


^ i 


^ • 


.-'• “w 


.,< 4- • * • 

• - ♦^■ 




V 4 


*' 4 4 /t; ‘, 

. , S . ?T - ♦ 


•<. • 




• '• r ‘ •- ^ 


^4 




'•A 






»• •- 


.* ( 


. < - A 


• > 




' - • •'.*^ . .A 


. '’>• f- 



v- 


X s 


f ^ . - . 1 * r 

ut • •- to*3l> 


- .■»; . y ^ 


'■ t 


'A- 

to. “ •*31 J' 

; -r • 


' ^ X i. • 


:U‘ 


. A-*=r 


■T 




>: 


* 41 /' '•V 


. «• 











PREFACE. 


I N the “Boy Hunters” the Author endeavoured 
to illustrate the fauna of the temperate zone 
of the American continent. In doing this, however, 
many animals, and particularly that interesting class 
known as the “fur-bearing animals,” could not be 
introduced without ‘ ‘ bringing the mountain to Ma- 
homet.” To avoid this, the “Boy Hunters” — under 
the name of the “ Young Voyageurs ” — have made a 
grand journey through the “ fur countries,” where, as 
will be seen, they have met with nearly all the wild 
creatures that inhabit that cold and desolate region. 
The Author begs leave here to repeat that he is “ not 
conscious of having taken any liberty, for the sake of 
effect, with the laws of Nature — with its fauna or its 
flora. Neither plant nor tree, bird nor mammal, has 
been pressed into service beyond the limits of its geo- 
graphical range ; although, in illustrating the habits 
or history of God’s wild creatures, he has often 
selected only their more peculiar characteristics. 

If the “Young Voyageurs” receive only as much 
applause in their new character, as they did in that of 
the “Boy Hunters,” the Author will have no reason 
to complain of his “boy public.” 

London, Novembery 1853. 


IX 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTER page 

I. THK FUR COUNTRIES .... 7 

II. THE YOUNG VOYAGEURS ... 9 

III. THE TRUMPETER SWAN AND BAUD 

EAGLE 25 

IV. THE SWANS OF AMERICA . . . 40 

V. A SWAN-HUNT BY TORCHLIGHT . . 49 

VI. “castaway” 61 

VII. A BRIDGE OF BUCKSKIN ... 67 

VIII. DECOYING THE “ GOATS ” . . . 8l 

IX. A “ PARTRIDGE DANCE ” . . . 90 

X. BASIL AND THE BISON-BULL . . 99 

XI. THRE^ CURIOUS TREES . . . I06 

XII. HOW TO BUILD A BARK CANOE . . 12 1 

XIII. THE CHAIN OF LAKES . . . . 129 

XIV. WAPITI, WOLVES, AND WOLVERENE . 1 36 

XV. A PAIR OF deep DIVERS . . -152 

XVI. A GRAND SUNDAY DINNER . . *163 

XVII. THE MARMOTS OF AMERICA . . -177 

XVIII. the blaireau, tawnies, and leop- 
ards 189 

XIX. AN ODD SORT OF DECOY-DUCK . . I99 

xi 


Contents 


CHAPTER • PACE 

XX. THK DUCKS OF AMERICA . . .213 

XXI, THE SHRIKE AND THE HUMMING-BIRDS 223 

XXII. THE FISH-HAWK . . . . . 23O 

XXIII. THE OSPREY AND HIS TYRANT . 238 

XXIV. THE VOYAGE JNTERRUPTED . . . 248 

XXV. FISHING UNDER THE ICE . . . 255 

XXVI. AN ODD AEARM 262 

XXVII. ENCOUNTER WITH A MOOSE . . . 275 

XXVIII. EIFE IN A EOG-HUT .... 284 

XXIX. TRAVEEEING ON SNOW-SHOES . . 294 

XXX. THE BARREN GROUNDS . . . 303 

XXXI. THE ROCK-TRIPE . . . . -314 

XXXII. THE POEAR hare AND GREAT SNOWY 

OWE 323 

XXXIII. THE JUMPING MOUSE AND THE ERMINE 335 
XXXIV. THE ARCTIC FOX AND WHITE WOEF . 34 1 

XXXV. THE JERFAECON AND THE WHITE 

GROUSE 352 

XXXVI. THE HARE, EYNX, AND GOEt)EN EAGEE 358 
XXXVII. the “ AEARM BIRD” AND THE CARI- 
BOU 366 

XXXVIII. A BATTEE WITH WOEVES . . . 376 

XXXIX. END OF THE “ VOYAGE ” . . . 388 


xii 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 



PAGE 

The Caribou and the Woeves 

Frontispiece 

The Young Voyageurs . 

. . 22 

The Trumpeter Swan and the Baud Hague 38 

Basie and the Bison Buee 

. 102 

The Wapiti and the Woeverene 

. 148 

Basie and the Moose Buee . 

. 280 

The Hog House .... 

. 288 

Entering the Barrens . 

. 304 


xiii 


i 


<r. 



f* 

l-r> , 





n 









f -1 


« 


V 











THE YOUNG VOYAGEURS. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE) FUR COUNTRi:^S. 

B oy reader, you have heard of the Hudson’s Bay 
Company ? Ten to one, you have worn a piece 
of fur, which it has provided for you ; if not, your pretty 
little sister has — in her muff, or her boa, or as a trim- 
ming for her winter dress. Would you like to know 
something of the country whence come these furs ? — of 
the animals whose backs have been stripped to obtain 
them ? As I feel certain that you and I are old friends, 
I make bold to answer for you — yes. Come, then ! let 
us journey together to the “Fur Countries;” let us 
cross them from south to north. 

A vast journey it will be. It will cost us many 
thousand miles of travel. We shall find neither rail- 
way train, nor steamboat, nor stage coach, to carry us 
on our way. We shall not even have the help of a 
horse. For us no hotel shall spread its luxurious 
board ; no road side inn shall hang out its inviting sign 


Ubc l^oung IDo^a^eur^ 


and “ clean beds ; ” no roof of any kind shall offer us 
its hospitable shelter. Our table shall be a rock, a log, 
or the earth itself; our lodging a tent ; and our bed 
the skin of a wild beast. Such are the best accommo- 
dations we can expect upon our journey. Are you 
still ready to undertake it? Does the prospect not 
deter you ? 

No — I hear you exclaim. I shall be satisfied with 
the table — what care I for mahogany ? With the lodg- 
ing — I can tent like an Arab. With the bed — fling 
feathers to the wind ! 

Enough, brave boy ! you shall go with me to the 
wild regions of the “North-west,” to the far “fur 
countries” of America. But, first — a word about the 
land through which we are going to travel. 

Take down your Atlas. Bend your eye upon the 
map of North America. Note two large islands — one 
upon the right side, Newfoundland ; another upon the 
left, Vancouver. Draw a line from one to the other ; 
it will nearly bisect the continent. North of that line 
you behold a vast territory. How vast? You may 
take your scissors, and clip fifty Englands out of it ! 
There are lakes there in which you might drown Eng- 
land, or make an island of it ! Now, you may form 
some idea of the vastness of that region known as the 
“ fur countries.” 

. Will you believe me, when I tell you that all this 
immense tract is a wilderness — a howling wilderness, 


2 


XTbe ffur Countries 


if you like a poetical name ? It is even so. From 
north to south, from ocean to ocean, — throughout all 
that vast domain, there is neither town nor village — 
hardly anything that can be dignified with the name 
of ‘ ‘ settlement. ’ ’ The only signs of civilisation to be 
seen are the “ forts,” or trading posts, of the Hudson’s 
Bay Company ; and these “ signs ” are few and far — 
hundreds of miles — between. For inhabitants, the. 
country has less than ten thousand white men, the 
employis of the Company ; and its native people are 
Indians of many tribes, living far apart, few in num- 
bers, subsisting by the chase, and half starving for at 
least a third part of every year ! In truth, the territory 
can hardly be called “ inhabited.” There is not a man 
to every ten miles ; and in many parts of it you may 
travel hundreds of miles without seeing a face, red, 
white, or black ! 

The physical aspect is, therefore, entirely wild. It is 
very different in different parts of the territory. One 
tract is peculiar. It has been long known as the 
“ Barren Grounds.” It is a tract of vast extent. It 
lies north-west from the shores of Hudson’s Bay, ex- 
tending nearly to the Mackenzie River. Its rocks are 
primitive. It is a land of hills and valleys, — of deep 
dark lakes and sharp running streams. It is a woodless 
region. No timber is found there that deserves the 
name. No trees but glandular dwarf birches, willows, 
and black spruce, small and stunted. Fven these only 
3 


TLbc lacuna Do^a^eure 


grow in isolated valleys. More generally the surface 
is covered with coarse sand — the dSbris of granite 
or quartz-rock — upon which no vegetable, save the 
lichen or the moss, can find life and nourishment. In 
one respect these ‘ ‘ Barren Grounds ’ ’ are unlike the 
devSerts of Africa : they are well watered. In almost 
every valley there is a lake ; and though many of these 
are land-locked, yet do they contain fish of several 
species. Sometimes these lakes communicate with 
each other by means of rapid and turbulent streams 
passing through narrow gorges ; and lines of those 
connected lakes form the great rivers of the district. 

Such is a large portion of the Hudson’s Bay terri- 
tory. Most of the extensive peninsula of I^abrador 
partakes of a similar character ; and there are other 
like tracts west of the Rocky Mountain range in the 
‘ ‘ Russian possessions. ’ ’ 

Yet these “Barren Grounds’’ have their denizens. 
Nature has formed animals that delight to dwell there, 
and that are never found in more fertile regions. Two 
ruminating creatures find sustenance upon the mosses 
and lichens that cover their cold rocks : they are the 
caribou (reindeer) and the musk-ox. These, in their 
turn, become the food and subsistence of preying crea- 
tures. The wolf, in all its varieties of grey, black, 
white, pied, and dusky, follows upon their trail. The 
“ brown bear,” — a large species, nearly resembling the 
“ grizzly,” — is found only in the Barren Grounds ; and 
4 


XTbe jfur Countrtea 


the great “Polar bear” comes within their borders, 
but the latter is a dweller upon their shores alone, and 
finds his food among the finny tribes of the seas that 
surround them. In marshy ponds, existing here and 
there, the musk-rat {Fiber zibethicus) builds his house, 
like that of his larger cousin, the beaver. Upon the 
water sedge he finds subsistence; but his natural 
enemy, the wolverene {Gulo iuscus), skulks in the same 
neighbourhood. The ‘ ‘ Polar hare ’ ’ lives upon the 
leaves and twigs of the dwarf birch-tree ; and this, 
transformed into its own white fiesh, becomes the food 
of the Arctic fox. The herbage, sparse though it be, 
does not grow in vain. The seeds fall to the earth, 
but they are not suffered to decay. They are gathered 
by the little lemmings and meadow-mice {arvicolce)^ 
who, in their turn, become the prey of two species of 
mustelidcB^ the ermine and vison weasels. Have the 
fish of the lakes no enemy ? Yes — a terrible one in the 
Canada otter. The mink- weasel, too, pursues them ; 
and in summer, the osprey, the great pelican, the cor- 
morant, and the white-headed eagle. 

These are the fauna of the Barren Grounds. Man 
rarely ventures within their boundaries. The wretched 
creatures who find a living there are the K.squimaux 
on their coasts, and a few Chippewa Indians in the 
interior, who hunt the caribou, and are known as 
‘ ‘ caribou-eaters. ’ ’ Other Indians enter them only in 
summer, in search of game, or journeying from point 

5 


Ubc JSouna IDo^aaeurs 


to point ; and so perilous are these journeyings, that 
numbers frequently perish by the way. There are no 
white men in the Barren Grounds. The ‘ ‘ Company ’ ’ 
has no commerce there. No fort is established in 
them : so scarce are the fur-bearing animals of these 
parts, their skins would not repay the expense of a 
“ trading post.” 

Far different are the “wooded tracts” of the fur 
countries. These lie mostly in the southern and cen- 
tral regions of the Hudson’s Bay territory. There are 
found the valuable beaver, and the wolverene that 
preys upon it. There dwells the American hare, with 
its enemy the Canada lynx. There are the squirrels, 
and the beautiful martens (sables) that hunt them 
from tree to tree. There are found the foxes of every 
variety, the red, the cross, and the rare and highly- 
prized silver-fox ( Vulpes argentatus), whose shining 
skin sells for its weight in gold ! There, too, the black 
bear (Ursus Americanus) yield’s its fine coat to adorn 
the winter carriage, the holsters of the dragoon, and 
the shako of the grenadier. There the fur-bearing 
animals exist in greatest plenty, and many others 
whose skins are valuable in commerce, as the moose, 
the wapiti, and the wood-bison. 

But there is also a “prairie” district in the fur 
countries. The great table prairies of North America, 
that slope eastward from the Rocky Mountains, also 
extend northward into the Hudson’s Bay territory. 


Zbc ffur Countries 


They gradually grow narrower, however, as you pro- 
ceed farther north, until, on reaching the latitude of 
the Great Slave Take, they end altogether. This 
“prairie land” has its peculiar animals. Upon it 
roams the buffalo, the prong-homed antelope, and the 
mule-deer. There, too, may be seen the ‘ ‘ barking 
wolf” and the “swift fox.” It is the favourite home 
of the marmots, and the gauffres or sand-rats ; and 
there, too, the noblest of animals, the horse, runs wild. 

West of this prairie tract is a region of far different 
aspect, — the region of the Rocky Mountains. This 
stupendous chain, sometimes called the Andes of 
North America, continues throughout the fur coun- 
tries from their southern limits to the shores of the 
Arctic Sea. Some of its peaks overlook the waters of 
that sea itself, towering up near the coast. Many of 
these, even in southern latitudes, carry the ‘ ‘ eternal 
snow. ’ ’ This ‘ ‘ mountain-chain ’ ’ is, in places, of great 
breadth. Deep valleys lie in its embrace, many of 
which have never been visited by man. Some are 
desolate and dreary ; others are oases of vegetation, 
which fascinate the traveller whose fortune it has 
been, after toiling among naked rocks, to gaze upon 
their smiling fertility. These lovely wilds are the 
favourite home of many strange animals. The argali, 
or mountain-sheep, with his huge curving horns, is 
seen there ; and the shaggy wild goat bounds along 
the steepest cliffs. The black bear wanders through 

7 


Ubc l^oung Do^aaeurs 


the wooded ravines ; and his fiercer congener, the 
“ grizzly ” — the most dreaded of all American animals 
— drags his huge body along the rocky declivities. 

Having crossed the mountains, the fur countries ex- 
tend westward to the Pacific. There you encounter 
barren plains, treeless and waterless ; rapid rivers, that 
foam through deep, rock-bound channels ; and a 
country altogether rougher in aspect, and more moun- 
tainous, than that lying to the east of the great chain. 
A warmer atmosphere prevails as you approach the 
Pacific, and in some places forests of tall trees cover the 
earth. In these are found most of the fur-bearing ani- 
mals ; and, on account of the greater warmth of the 
climate, the true felidcB — the long-tailed cats — here wan- 
der much farther north than upon the eastern side of the 
continent. Even so far north as the forests of Oregon 
these appear in the forms of the cougar {Felis concolor), 
and the ounce {Felis onza). 

But it is not our intention at present to cross the 
Rocky Mountains. Our journey will lie altogether on 
the eastern side of that great chain. It will extend 
from the frontiers of civilisation to the shores of the 
Arctic Sea. It is a long and perilous journey, boy 
reader ; but as we have made up our minds to it, let 
us waste no more time in talking, but set forth at once. 
You are ready? Hurrah ! 


8 


CHAPTER II. 


THK YOUNG VOYAGKURS. 



here is a canoe upon the waters of Red River — 


Red River of the north. It is near the source 


of the stream, but passing downward. It is a small 
canoe, a frail structure of birch -bark, and contains only- 
four persons. They are all young — the eldest of them 
evidently not over nineteen years of age, and the young- 
est about fifteen. 

The eldest is nearly full-grown, though his body and 
limbs have not yet assumed the muscular developement 
of manhood. His complexion is dark, nearly olive. 
His hair is jet-black, straight as an Indian’s, and long. 
His eyes are large and brilliant, and his features promi- 
nent. His countenance expresses courage, and his 
well-set jaws betoken firmness and resolution. He 
does not belie his looks, for he possesses these qualifi- 
cations in a high degree. There is a gravity in his 
manner, somewhat rare in one so young ; yet it is not 
the result of a morose disposition, but a subdued tem- 
perament produced by modesty, good sense, and much 
experience. Neither has it the air of stupidity. No : 


9 


XTbe HJoung Do^ageurs 


you could easily tell that the mind of this youth, if once 
roused, would exhibit both energy and alertness. His 
quiet manner has a far different expression. It is an 
air of coolness and confidence, which tells you he has 
met with dangers in the past, and would not fear to 
encounter them again. It is an expression peculiar, 
I think, to the hunters of the “Far West,” — those 
men who dwell amidst dangers in the wild regions of 
the great prairies. Their solitary mode of life begets 
this expression. They are often for months without 
the company of a creature with whom they may con- 
verse — months without beholding a human face. They 
live alone with Nature, surrounded by her majestic 
forms. These awe them into habits of silence. Such 
was in point of fact the case with the youth whom we 
have been describing. He had hunted much, though 
not as a professional hunter. With him the chase had 
been followed merely as a pastime ; but its pursuit had 
brought him into situations of peril ; and in contact 
with Nature in her wild solitudes. Young as he was, 
he had journeyed over the grand prairies, and through 
the pathless forests of the West. Jle had slain the 
bear and the buffalo, the wild cat and the cougar. 
These experiences had made their impression upon his 
mind, and stamped his countenance with that air of 
gravity we have noticed. 

The second of the youths whom we shall describe 
is very different in appearance. He is of blonde com- 


10 


tTbe louuG Wo^aaeure 


plexion, rather pale, with fair silken hair that waves 
gently down his cheeks, and falls upon his shoulders. 
He is far from robust. On the contrary, his form is 
thin and delicate. It is not the delicacy of feebleness 
or ill-health, but only a body of slighter build. The 
manner in which he handles his oar shows that he pos- 
sesses both health and strength, though neither in such 
a high degree as the dark youth. His face expresses, 
perhaps, a larger amount of intellect, and it is a coun- 
tenance that would strike you as more open and com- 
municative. The e5^e is blue and mild, and the brow 
is marked by the paleness of study and habits of 
continued thought. These indications are no more 
than just, for the fair-haired youth is a student, and 
one of no ordinary attainments. Although only seven- 
teen years of age, he is already well versed in the 
natural sciences ; and many a graduate of Oxford or 
Cambridge would but ill compare with him. The 
former might excel in the knowledge — if we can dig- 
nify it by that name — of the laws of scansion, or in 
the composition of Greek idyls ; but in all that consti- 
tutes real knowledge he would prove but an idle theo- 
rist, a dreamy imbecile, alongside our practical young 
scholar of the West. 

The third and youngest of the party — taking them 
as they sit from stern to bow — differs in many respects 
from both those described. He has neither the gravity 
of the first, nor yet the intellectuality of the second. 


Ubc HJourtG IDopaaeuts 


His face is round, and full, and ruddy. It is bright 
and smiling in its expression. His eye dances merrily 
in his head, and its glance falls upon everything. His 
lips are hardly ever at rest. They are either engaged 
in making words — for he talks almost incessantly — or 
else contracting and expanding with smiles and joyous 
laughter. His cap is jauntily set, and his fine brown 
curls, hanging against the rich roseate skin of his 
cheeks, give to his countenance an expression of ex- 
treme health and boyish beauty. His merry laugh and 
free air tell you he is not the boy for books. He is not 
much of a hunter neither. In fact, he is not particu- 
larly given to anything — one of those easy natures 
who take the world as it comes, look upon the bright 
side of everything, without getting sufficiently inter- 
ested to excel in anything. 

These three youths were dressed nearly alike. The 
eldest wore the costume, as near as may be, of a back- 
woods hunter — a tunic-like hunting-shirt, of dressed 
buckskin, leggings and moccasins of the same material, 
and all — shirt, leggings, and moccasins — handsomely 
braided and embroidered with stained quills of the por- 
cupine. The cape of the shirt was tastefully fringed, and 
so was the skirt as well as the seams of the moccasins. 
On his head was a hairy cap of raccoon skin, and the 
tail of the animal, with its dark transverse bars, hung 
down behind like the drooping plume of a helmet. 
Around his shoulders were two leathern belts that 


12 


Ube l^oung IDo^aoeurs 


crossed each other upon his breast. One of these slung 
a bullet-pouch covered with a violet-green skin that 
glittered splendidly in the sun. It was from the head 
of the “ wood-duck ” (Anas sponsa), the most beauti- 
ful bird of its tribe. By the other strap was suspended 
a large crescent-shaped horn taken from the head of 
an Opelousas bull, and carved with various ornamental 
devices. Other smaller implements hung from the belts 
attached by leathern thongs : there was a picker, a 
wiper, and a steel for striking fire with. A third belt 
— a broad stout one of alligator leather — encircled the 
youth’s waist. To this was fastened a holster, and the 
shining butt of a pistol could be seen protruding out ; 
a hunting-knife of the kind denominated ‘ ‘ bowie ’ ’ 
hanging over the left hip, completed his “ arms and 
accoutrements.” 

The second of the youths was dressed, as already 
stated, in a somewhat similar manner, though his 
accoutrements were not of so war-like a character. 
Like the other, he had a powder-horn and pouch, but 
instead of knife and pistol, a canvass bag or haversack 
hung from his shoulder ; and had you looked into it, 
you would have seen that it was half filled with shells, 
pieces of rock, and rare plants, gathered during the 
day — the diurnal store-house of the geologist, the 
palaeontologist, and botanist— to be emptied for study 
and examination by the night camp-fire. Instead of 
the ’coon-skin cap he wore a white felt hat with broad 
13 


Zbc JSouuG IDoyaoeurs 


leaf; and for leggings and moccasins he had trons^ 
ers of blue cottonade and laced buskins of tanned 
leather. 

The youngest of the three was dressed and accoutred 
much like the eldest, except that his cap was of blue 
cloth — somewhat after the fashion of the military for- 
age cap. All three wore shirts of coloured cotton, the 
best for journeying in these uninhabited regions, where 
soap is scarce, and a laundress not to be had at any 
price. 

Though very unlike one another, these three youths 
were brothers. I knew them well. I had seen them 
before — about two years before — and though each had 
grown several inches taller since that time, I had no 
difficulty in recognising them. Even though they 
were now two thousand miles from where I had for- 
merly encountered them, I could riot be mistaken as to 
their identity. Beyond a doubt they were the same 
brave young adventurers whom I had met in the 
swamps of Louisiana, and whose exploits I had wit- 
nessed upon the prairies of Texas. They were the 
“Boy Hunters,” — Basil, Tucien, Francois! I was 
right glad to renew acquaintance with them. Boy 
reader, do you share my joy ? 

But whither go they now ? They are full two thou- 
sand miles from their home in Louisiana. The Red 
River upon which their canoe floats is not that Red 
River, whose blood-like waters sweep through the 


14 


XTbe l^outxo IDo^aoeurs 


swamps of the hot South — the home of the alligator 
and the gar. No, it is a stream of a far different char- 
acter, though also one of great magnitude. Upon the 
banks of the former ripens the rice-plant, and the 
sugar-cane waves its golden tassels high in the air. 
There, too, flourishes the giant reed {Arundo gigantea), 
the fan-palm {Chamcerops)^ and the broad-leafed mag- 
nolia, with its huge snow-white flowers. There the 
aspect is Southern, and the heat tropical for most part 
of the year. 

All this is reversed on the Red River of the North. 
It is true that on its banks sugar is also produced ; but 
it is no longer from a plant but a lordly tree — the great 
sugar-maple (^Acer saccharinum). There is rice too, — 
vast fields of rice upon its marshy borders ; but it is 
not the pearly grain of the South. It is the wild rice, 
“ the water oats ” (^Zizania aquatica), the food of mil- 
lions of winged creatures, and thousands of human be- 
ings as well. Here for three-fourths of the year the 
sun is feeble, and the aspect that of winter. For 
months the cold waters are bound up in an icy embrace. 
The earth is covered with thick snow, over which rise 
the needle-leafed coniferce — the pines, the cedars, the 
spruce, and the hemlock. Very unlike each other are 
the countries watered by the two streams, the Red 
River of the South and its name-sake of the North. 

But whither go our Boy Hunters in their birch-bark 
canoe ? The river upon which they are voyaging runs 
15 


Ubc 15 oung IDo^ageurs 


due northward into the great lake Winnipeg. They 
are floating with its current, and consequently increas- 
ing the distance from their home. Whither go they ? 

The answer leads us to some sad reflections. Our 
joy on again beholding them is to be mingled with 
grief. When we last saw them they had a father, but 
no mother. Now they have neither one nor the other. 
The old Colonel, their father — the French ^migri^ the 
hunter-naturalist — is dead. He who had taught them 
all they knew ; who had taught them ‘ ‘ to ride, to 
swim, to dive deep rivers, to fling the lasso, to climb 
tall trees, and scale steep cliffs, to bring down birds 
upon the wing or beasts upon the run, with the arrow 
and the unerring rifle ; who had trained them to sleep 
in the open air, in the dark forest, on the unsheltered 
prairie, along the white snow-wreath — anywhere — with 
but a blanket or a buffalo robe for their bed ; who had 
taught them to live on the simplest food, and had im- 
parted to one of them a knowledge of science, of botany 
in particular, that enabled them, in case of need, to 
draw sustenance from plants and trees, from roots and 
fruits, to find resources where ignorant men would 
starve ; had taught them to kindle a fire without flint, 
steel, or detonating powder ; to discover their direction 
without a compass, from the rocks and the trees and 
the signs of the heavens ; and in addition to all, had 
taught them, as far as was then known, the geography 
of that vast wilderness that stretches from the Missis- 

16 


Zbc IgounG IDo^a^eurs 


sippi to the shores of the Pacific Ocean, and northward 
to the icy borders of the Arctic Sea” — he who had 
taught them all this, ’their father, was no more ; and 
his three sons, the “boy-men,” of whom he was so 
proud, and of whose accomplishments he was wont to 
boast, were now orphans upon the wide world. 

But little more than a year after their return from 
their grand expedition to the Texan prairies, the ‘ ‘ old 
Colonel ” had died. It was one of the worst years of 
that scourge of the South — the yellow fever — and to 
this dread pestilence he had fallen a victim. 

Hugot, the ex-chasseur and attached domestic, who 
was accustomed to follow his master like a shadow, had 
also followed him into the next world. It was not 
grief that killed Hugot, though he bore the loss of his 
kind master sadly enough. But it was not grief that 
killed Hugot. He was laid low by the same disease of 
which his master bad died — the yellow fever. A week 
had scarcely pavSsed after the death of the latter, before 
Hugot caught the disease, and in a few days he was car- 
ried to the tomb and laid by the side of his ‘ ‘ old Colonel. ^ ’ 

The Boy Hunters — Basil, Lucien, Francois — became 
orphans. They knew of but one relation in the whole 
world, with whom their father had kept up any corre- 
spondence. This relation was an uncle, and, strange as 
it may seem, a Scotchman — a Highlander, who had 
strayed to Corsica in early life, and had there married 
the Colonel’s sister. That uncle had afterwards em- 


17 


Zbc JSouuG IDopaoeura 


igrated to Canada, and had become extensively engaged 
in the fur trade. He was now a superintendent or 
“ factor ” of the Hudson’s Bay Company, stationed at 
one of their most remote posts near the shores of the 
Arctic Sea ! There is a romance in the history of 
some men wilder than any fiction that could be im- 
agined. 

I have not yet answered the question as to where 
our Boy Hunters were journeying in their birch-bark 
canoe. By this time you will have divined the answer. 
Certainly, you will say, they were on their w^ay to join 
their uncle in his remote home. For no other object 
could they be travelling through the wild regions of the 
Red River. That supposition is correct. To visit this 
Scotch uncle (they had not seen him for years) was the 
object of their long, toilsome, and perilous journey. 
After their father’s death he had sent for them. He 
had heard of their exploits upon the prairies ; and, 
being himself of an adventurous disposition, he was 
filled with admiration for his young kinsmen, and de- 
sired very much to ha'^e them come and live with him. 
Being now their guardian, he might command as 
much, but it needed not any exercise of authorit}^ on 
his part to induce all three of them to obey his sum- 
mons. They had travelled through the mighty forests 
of the Mississippi, and upon the summer prairies of the 
South. These great features of the earth’s surface 
were to them familiar things, and they were no longer 

i8 


TLbc ]3oung IDo^aaeurs 


curious about them. But there remained a vast coun- 
try which they longed eagerly to explore. They longed 
to look upon its shining lakes and crystal rivers ; upon 
its snow-clad hills and ice-bound streams ; upon its 
huge mammalia — its moose and its musk-oxen, its 
wapiti and its monster bears. This was the very coun- 
try to which they were now invited by their kinsman, 
and cheerfully did they accept his invitation. Already 
had they made one-half the journey, though by far 
the easier half. They had travelled up the Mississippi, 
by steamboat as far as the mouth of the St. Peter’s. 
There they had commenced their canoe voyage — in 
other words became ‘ ‘ voyageurs ’ ’ — for such is the name 
given to those who travel by canoes through these 
wild territories. Their favourite horses and the mule 
“Jeannette” had been left behind. This was a neces- 
sity, as these creatures, however useful upon the dry 
prairies of the South, where there are few or no lakes, 
and where rivers only occur at long intervals, would be 
of little service to the traveller in the Northern regions. 
Here the route is croSvSed and intercepted by numerous 
rivers ; and lakes of all sizes, with tracts of inundated 
marsh, succeed one another continually. Such, in fact, 
are the highways of the country, and the canoe the 
travelling carriage ; so that a journey from one point 
of the Hudson’s Bay territory to another is often a 
canoe voyage of thousands of miles — equal to a “ trip ” 
across the Atlantic ! 


19 


Ube JSouHG IDo^aaeurs 


Following the usual custom, therefore, our Boy Hun- 
ters had become voyageurs — “ Young VoyageursY 
They had navigated the St. Peter’s in safety, almost 
to its head -waters. These interlock with the sources 
of the Red River. By a “ portage ” of a few miles 
they had crossed to the latter stream ; and, having 
launched their canoe upon its waters, were now floating 
downward and northward with its current. But they 
had yet along journey before them — nearly two thou- 
sand miles ! Many a river to be “ run,” many a rapid 
to be “ shot,” many a lake to be crossed, and many a 
“ portage ” to be passed, ere they could reach the end 
of that great voyage. 

Come, boy reader, shall we accompany them ? Yes. 
The strange scenes and wild adventures through which 
we must pass, may lighten the toils, and perhaps repay 
us for the perils, of the journey. Think not of the toils. 
Roses grow only upon thorns. From toil we learn to 
enjoy leisure. Regard not the perils. “From the 
nettle danger we pluck the flower safety.” Security 
often springs from peril. From such hard experiences 
great men have arisen. Come, then, my young friend ! 
mind neither toil nor peril, but with me to the great 
wilderness of the North ! 

Stay ! We are to have another “ compagnon du voy- 
age.^' There is a fourth in the boat, a fourth “ young 
voy ageur. ’ ’ Who is he ? In appearance he is as old 
as Basil, full as tall, and not unlike him in “ build.” 


20 


Zbc l^ouuG IDo^a^eurs 


But he is altogether of a different colour. He is fair- 
haired ; but his hair (unlike that of louden, which is 
also light-coloured) is strong, crisp, and curly. It 
does not droop, but stands out over his cheeks in a 
profusion of handsome ringlets. His complexion is 
of that kind known as “fresh,” and the weather, to 
which it has evidently been much exposed, has bronzed 
and rather enriched the colour. The eyes are dark 
blue, and, strange to say, with blackhxor^^ and lashes ! 
This is not common, though sometimes observed ; and, 
in the case of the youth we are describing, arose from 
a difference of complexion on the part of his parents. 
He looked through the eyes of his mother, while in 
other respects he was more like his father, who was 
fair-haired and of a “fresh ” colour. 

The youth, himself, might be termed handsome. 
Perhaps he did not possess the youthful beauty of 
Francois, nor the bolder kind that characterized the 
face of Basil. Perhaps he was of a coarser “ make” 
than any of his three companions. His intellect had 
been less cultivated by education, and education adds 
to the beauty of the face. His life had been a harder 
one — he had toiled more with his hands, and had seen 
less of civilised society. Still many would have pro- 
nounced him a handsome youth. His features were 
regular, and of clean outline. His lips expressed 
good-nature as well as firmness. His eye beamed 
with native intelligence, and his whole face bespoke 


21 


Ubc l^ouuG tDoyaaeuts 


a heart of true and determined honesty — that made it 
beautiful. 

Perhaps a close scrutinizer of countenances might 
have detected some resemblance — a family one — be- 
tween him and his three companions. If such there 
was, it was very slight ; but there might have been, 
from the relationship that existed between them and 
him. He was their cousin — their full cousin — the 
only son of that uncle they were now on their way 
to visit, and the messenger who had been sent to 
bring them. Such was the fourth of “the young 
voyageurs. ”, 

His dress was not unlike that worn by Basil ; but 
as he was seated on the bow, and acting as pilot, and 
therefore more likely to .feel the cold, he wore over 
his hunting-shirt a Canadian capote of white woolen 
cloth, with its hood hanging down upon his shoulders. 

But there was still another ‘ ‘ voyageur, ’ ’ an old 
acquaintance, whom you, boy reader, will no doubt 
remember. This was an animal, a quadruped, who 
lay along the bottom of the canoe upon a buffalo’s 
hide. “ From his size and colour — which was a tawny 
red — you might have mistaken him for a panther — 
a cougar. His long black muzzle and broad hanging 
ears gave him quite a different aspect, however, and 
declared him to be a hound. He was one — a blood- 
hound, with the cross of a mastiff — a powerful animal. 
It was the dog ‘ Marengo.’ ” You remember Marengo ? 


22 



THE YOUNG VOVAGEURS 








^ , . ,/-•'•* /X k 

M , V * . i#r- - 

r# : 


; I 


.V . 


^ ^ ♦ fcisA!5H*^ • I 





t: 


\>T '.rrUfm 



' * ' "'''Pi-'- 'S'*' 

•' ii ^ ^ r^r 



■ 


v:,. 







i’ 


'■'■:■ II 




r * ■* 

«• . » * . * 





\ .4- 





• r 


1 ' 


#v I 









'^Tbe ISoung IDo^aaeurs 


In the canoe there were other objects of interest. 
There w^ere blankets and buffalo robes ; there was a 
small canvass tent folded up ; there were bags of pro- 
visions, and some cooking utensils ; there was a spade 
and an axe ; there were rifles — three of them — and a 
double-barrelled shot-gun ; besides a fish-net, and 
many other articles, the necessary equipments for such 
a journey. 

Loaded almost to the gunwale was that little canoe, 
yet lightly did it float down the waters of the Red 
River of the North. 


23 


CHAPTER III. 


THE trumpeter swan AND THE BAUD EAGEE. 

I T was the spring season, though late. The snow 
had entirely disappeared from the hills, and the 
ice from the water, and the melting of both had swollen 
the river, and rendered its current more rapid than 
usual. Our young voyageurs needed not therefore to 
ply their oars, except now and then to guide the canoe ; 
for these little vessels have no rudder, but are steered 
by the paddles. The skilful voyageurs can shoot them 
to any point they please, simply by their dexterous 
handling of the oars ; and Basil, Eucien, and Francois, 
had had sufficient practice both with “skiffs” and 
‘ ‘ dug-outs ’ ’ to make good oarsmen of all three. They 
had made many a canoe trip upon the lower Mississippi 
and the bayous of Louisiana ; besides their journey 
up the St. Peter’s had rendered them familiar with the 
management of their birchen craft. An occasional 
stroke of the paddle kept them in their course, and 
they floated on without effort. Norman — such was the 
name of their Canadian or Highland cousin — sat in 
the bow and directed their course. This is the post of 
24 


trumpeter Swan an^ BalO Baole 


honour in a canoe ; and as he had more experience than 
any of them in this sort of navigation, he was allowed 
habitually to occupy this post. lyucien sat in the 
stern. He held in his hands a book and pencil ; and 
as the canoe glided onward, he was noting down his 
memoranda. The trees upon the banks were in leaf — 
many of them in blossom — and as the little craft verged 
near the shore, his keen eye followed the configuration 
of the leaves, to discover any new species that might 
appear. There is a rich vegetation upon the banks of 
the Red River ; but the flora is far different from that 
which appears upon the low alluvion of Louisiana. It 
is Northern, but not Arctic. Oaks, elms, and poplars, 
are seen mingling with birches, willows, and aspens. 
Several species of indigenous fruit trees were observed 
by Tucien, among which were crab-apple, raspberry, 
strawberry, and currant. There was also seen the fruit 
called by the voyageurs “ le poire,” but which in 
English phraseology is known as the “ service-berry ” 
(Amelanckier ovalis). It grows upon a small bush or 
shrub of six or eight feet high, with smooth pinnate 
leaves. These pretty red berries are much esteemed 
and eaten both by Indians and whites, who preserve 
them by drying, and cook them in various ways. 
There was still another bush that fixed the attention 
of our young botanist, as it appeared all along the 
banks, and was a characteristic of the vegetation of the 
country. It was not over eight feet in height, with 
25 


XTbe ^onwQ IDo^aaeurs 


spreading branches of a grey colour. Its leaves were 
three inches wide, and somewhat lobed like those of 
the oak. Of course, at this early season, the fruit was not 
ripe upon it ; but lyucien knew the fruit well. When 
ripe it resembles very much a red cherry, or, still more, 
a cranberry, having both the appearance and acrid 
taste of the latter. Indeed, it is sometimes used as a 
substitute for cranberries in the making of pies and 
tarts ; and in many parts it is called the ‘ ‘ bush cran- 
berry.” The name, however, by which it is known 
among the Indians of Red River is anepeminan^'' 
from summer, and “ berry. This 

has been corrupted by the fur-traders and voyageurs into 
“ Pembina ; ” hence, the name of a river which runs 
into the Red, and also the name of the celebrated but 
unsuccessful settlement of ‘ ‘ Pembina, ’ ’ formed by 
Tord Selkirk many years ago. Both took their 
names from this berry that grows in abundance in the 
neighbourhood. The botanical appellation of this 
curious shrub is Viburnum oxycoccos ; but there is 
another species of the viburnum, which is also styled 
“ oxycoccos.” The common ” snowball bush ” of our 
gardens is a plant of the same genus, and very like the 
“Pembina” both in leaf and flower. In fact, in a 
wild state they might be regarded as the same ; but it 
is well known that the flowers of the snowball are 
sterile, and do not produce the beautiful bright crimson 
berries of the “ Pembina.” 


26 


trumpeter Swan an& ®al& Eagle 


lyucien lectured upon these points to his companions 
as they floated along. Norman listened with astonish- 
ment to his philosophic cousin, who, although he had 
never been in this region before, knew more of its 
plants and trees than he did himself. Basil also was 
interested in the explanations given by his brother. 
On the contrary, Francois, who cared but little for 
botanical studies, or studies of any sort, was occupied 
differently. He sat near the middle of the canoe, 
double-barrel in hand, eagerly watching for a shot. 
Many species of water- fowl were upon the river, for it 
was now late in the spring, and the wild geese and 
ducks had all arrived, and were passing northward 
upon their annual migration. During the day Francois 
had got several shots, and had “ bagged ” three wild 
geese, all of different kinds, for there are many species 
of wild geese in America. He had also shot some 
ducks. But this did not satisfy him. There was a 
bird upon the river that could not be approached. 
No matter how the canoe was manoeuvred, this shy 
creature always took flight before Francois could get 
within range. For days he had been endeavouring to 
kill one. Even upon the St. Peter’s many of them 
had been seen, sometimes, in pairs, at other times in 
small flocks of six or seven, but always shy and wary. 
The very difiiculty of getting a shot at them, along 
with the splendid character of the birds themselves, 
had rendered Francois eager to obtain one. The bird 


27 


Zbc l^ouuG IDo^aaeuts 


itself was no other than the great wild swan — the king 
of aquatic birds. 

“Come, brother!” said Francois, addressing Fu- 
cien, “bother your viburnums and your oxycocks 1 
Tell us something about these swans. See I there goes 
another of them I What a splendid fellow he is I I’d 
give something to have him within range of buck- 
shot.” 

As Francois spoke he pointed down-stream to a great 
white bird that was seen moving out from the bank. 
It was a swan, and one of the very largest kind — a 
“trumpeter” (Oygnus buccinator). 

It had been feeding in a sedge of the wild rice {Zi- 
zania aquatica), and no doubt the sight of the canoe or 
the plash of the guiding oar had disturbed, and given 
it the alarm. It shot out from the reeds with head 
erect and wings slightly raised, offering to the eyes of 
the voyageurs a spectacle of graceful and majestic bear- 
ing, that, among the feathered race at least, is quite 
inimitable. 

A few strokes of its broad feet propelled it into the 
open water near the middle of the stream, when, mak- 
ing a half wheel, it turned head down the river, and 
swam with the current. 

At the point where it turned it was not two hundred 
yards ahead of the canoe. Its apparent boldness in 
permitting them to come so near without taking wing, 
led Francois to hope that they might get still nearer ; 

28 


trumpeter Swan an^ 36alD Ba^le 


and, begging his companions to ply the paddles, he 
seized hold of his double-barrel, and leaned forward^ in 
the canoe. Basil also conceived a hope that a shot 
was to be had, for he took up his rifle, and looked to 
the cock and cap. The others went steadily and qui- 
etly to work at the oars. In a few moments the canoe 
cleft the current at the rate of a galloping horse, and 
one would have supposed that the swan must either at 
once take wing or be overtaken. 

Not so, however. The ‘ ‘ trumpeter ’ ’ knew his game 
better than that. He had full confidence both in his 
strength and speed upon the water. He was not going 
to undergo the trouble of a fly, until the necessity arose 
for so doing ; and, as it was, he seemed to be satisfied 
that that necessity had not yet arrived. The swim cost 
him much less muscular exertion than flying would 
have done, and he judged that the current, here very 
swift, would carry him out of reach of his pursuers. 

It soon began to appear that he judged rightly ; and 
the voyageurs, to their chagrin, saw that, instead of 
gaining upon him, as they had expected, every mo- 
ment widened the distance between him and the canoe. 
The bird had an advantage over his pursuers. Three 
distinct powers propelled him, while they had only two 
to rely upon. He had the current in his favour — so 
had they. He had oars or paddles — his feet ; they had 
oars as well. He “carried sail,” while they spread 

not a “rag.” The wind chanced to blow directly 
29 


Ubc l^oung Do^ageurs 


down-stream, and the broad wings of the bird, held out 
from his body, and half extended, caught the very pith 
of the breeze on their double concave surfaces, and car- 
ried him through the water with the velocity of an ar- 
row. Do you think that he was not aware of this 
advantage when he started in the race ? Do you sup- 
pose that these birds do not think f I for one am satis- 
fied they do, and look upon every one who prates about 
the instinct of these creatures as a philosopher of a very 
old school indeed. Not only does the great swan 
think, but so does your parrot, and your piping bull- 
finch, and the little canary that hops on your thumb. 
All think, and reason and judge. Should it ever be 
your fortune to witness the performance of those mar- 
vellous birds, exhibited by the graceful Mdlle. Vander- 
meersch in the fashionable salons of Paris and Dondon, 
you will agree with me in the belief that the smallest 
of them has a mind like yourself. 

Most certainly the swan, which our voyageurs were 
pursuing, thought, and reasoned, and judged, and cal- 
culated his distance, and resolved to keep on “ the even 
tenor of his way,” without putting himself to extra 
trouble by beating the air with his wings, and lifting 
his heavy body — thirty pounds at least — up into the 
heavens. His judgment proved sound ; for, in less 
than ten minutes from the commencement of the chase, 
he had gained a clear hundred yards upon his pursu- 
ers, and continued to widen the distance. At intervals 


30 


trumpeter Swan anb Balt) Baole 


he raised his beak higher than usual, and uttered his 
loud booming note, which fell upon the ears of the 
voyageurs as though it had been sent back in mockery 
and defiance. 

. They would have given up the pursuit, had they not 
noticed that a few hundred yards farther down the 
river made a sharp turn to the right. The swan, on 
reaching this, would no longer have the wind in his 
favour. This inspired them with fresh hopes. They 
thought they would be able to overtake him after pass- 
ing the bend, and then, either get a shot at him, or 
force him into the air. The latter was the more likely ; 
and, although it would be no great gratification to see 
him fly off, yet they had become so interested in this 
singular chase that they desired to terminate it by put- 
ting the trumpeter to some trouble. They bent, there- 
fore, with fresh energy to their oars, and pulled onward 
in the pursuit. First the swan, and after him the canoe, 
swung round the bend, and entered the new ‘ ‘ reach ’ ’ 
of the river. The voyageurs at once perceived that 
the bird now swam more slowly. He no longer “ car- 
-ried sail,” as the wind was no longer in his favour. 
His wings lay closely folded to his body, and he moved 
only by the aid of his webbed feet and the current, 
which last happened to be sluggish, as the river at 
this part spread over a wide expanse of level land. 
The canoe was evidently catching up, and each stroke 
was bringing the pursuers nearer to the pursued. 

31 


Ubc l^ounG IDoyaaeurs 


After a few minutes’ brisk pulling, the trumpeter 
had lost so much ground that he was not two hundred 
yards in the advance, and ‘ ‘ dead ahead. ’ ’ His body was 
no longer carried with the same gracefulness, and the 
majestic curve of his neck had disappeared. His bill 
protruded forward, and his thighs began to drag the 
water in his wake. He was evidently on the threshold 
of flight. Both Francois and Basil saw this, as they 
stood with their guns crossed and ready. 

At this moment a shrill cry sounded over the water. 
It was the scream of some wild creature, ending in a 
strange laugh, like the laugh of a maniac ! 

On both sides of the river there was a thick forest 
of tall trees of the cotton- wood species {Populus angus- 
tifolia). From this forest the strange cry had pro- 
ceeded, and from the right bank. Its echoes had 
hardly ceased, when it was answered by a similar cry 
from the trees upon the left. So like were the two, 
that it seemed as if some one of God’s wild creatures 
was mocking another. These cries were hideous enough 
to frighten any one not used to them. They had not 
that effect upon our voyageurs, who knew their import. 
One and all of them were familiar with the voice of 
the white-headed eagle ! 

The trumpeter knew it as well as any of them, but 
on him it produced a far different effect. His terror 
was apparent, and his intention was all at once changed. 
Instead of rising into the air, as he had premeditated, 
32 


TCrumpeter Swan anb asal& Eagle 


he suddenly lowered his head and disappeared under 
the water. 

Again was heard the wild scream and the maniac 
laugh ; and the next moment an eagle swept out from 
the timber, and, after a few strokes of its broad wing, 
poised itself over the spot where the trumpeter had 
gone down. The other, its mate, was seen crossing 
at the same time from the opposite side. 

Presently the swan rose to the surface, but his head 
was hardly out of the water when the eagle once more 
uttered its wild note, and, half folding its wings, 
darted down from above. The swan seemed to have 
expected this, for before the eagle could 'reach the sur- 
face, he had gone under a second time, and the latter, 
though passing with the velocity of an arrow, plunged 
his talons in the water to no purpose. With a cry of 
disappointment the eagle mounted back into the air, and 
commenced wheeling in circles over the spot. It was 
now joined by its mate, and both kept round and 
round watching for the reappearance of their intended 
victim. 

Again the swan came to the surface, but before either 
of the eagles could swoop upon him he had for the third 
time disappeared. The swan is but an indifferent 
diver ; but under such circumstances he was likely to 
do his best at it. But what could it avail him ? He 
must soon rise to the surface to take breath — each time 
at shorter intervals. He would soon become fatigued 


33 


Ube ^omg Wopa^eurs 


and unable to dive with sufficient celerity, and then his 
cruel enemies would be down upon him with their ter- 
rible talons. Such is the usual result, unless the swan 
takes to the air, which he sometimes does. In the 
present case he had built his hopes upon a different 
means of escape. He contemplated being able to con- 
ceal himself in a heavy sedge of bulrushes {Scirpus 
lacustris) that grew along the edge of the river, and 
towards these he was evidently directing his course 
under the water. At each emersion he appeared some 
yards nearer them, until at length he rose within a few 
feet of their margin, and diving again was seen no 
more ! He had crept in among the sedge, and no 
doubt was lying with only his head, or part of it, above 
the water, his body concealed by the broad leaves of 
the nymphcE, while the head itself could not be distin- 
guished among the white flowers that lay thickly along 
the surface. 

The eagles now wheeled over the sedge, flapping 
the tops of the bulrushes with their broad wings, and 
screaming with disappointed rage. Keen as were their 
eyes they could not discover the hiding-place of their 
victim. No doubt they would have searched for it a 
long while, but the canoe — which they now appeared 
to notice for the first time — had floated near ; and, be- 
coming aware of their own danger, both mounted into 
the air again, and with a farewell scream flew off, and 
alighted at some distance down the river. 


34 


Tlrumpeter Swan ant) Bal^ Bagle 


“ A swan for supper ! ” shouted Francois, as he 
poised his gun for the expected shot. 

The canoe was headed for the bulrushes near the 
point where the trumpeter had been last seen ; and a 
few strokes of the paddles brought the little craft with 
a whizzing sound among the sedge. But the culms of 
the rushes were so tall, and grew so closely together, 
that the canoe-men, after entering, found to their cha- 
grin they could not see six feet around them. They 
dared not stand up, for this is exceedingly dangerous 
in a birch canoe, where the greatest caution is neces- 
sary to keep the vessel from careening over. More- 
over, the sedge was so thick, that it was with difl&culty 
they could use their oars. They remained stationary 
for a time, surrounded by a wall of green bulrush. 
They soon perceived that that would never do, and 
resolved to push back into the open water. Mean- 
while Marengo had been sent into the sedge, and was 
now heard plunging and sweltering about in search of 
the game. Marengo was not much of a water-dog by 
nature, but he had been trained to almost every kind 
of hunting, and his experience among the swamps of 
Louisiana had long since relieved him of all dread for 
the water. His masters therefore had no fear but that 
Marengo would ‘ ‘ put up ’ ’ the trumpeter. 

Marengo had been let loose a little too soon. Before 
the canoe could be cleared of the entangling sedge, the 
dog was heard to utter one of his loud growls, then 
35 


XLbc l^ouno IDo^aoeuts 


followed a heav}^ plunge, there was a confused flutter- 
ing of wings, and the great white bird rose majestically 
into the air ! Before either of the gunners could direct 
their aim, he was beyond the range of shot, and both 
prudently reserved their fire. Marengo having per- 
formed his part, swam back to the canoe, and was 
lifted over the gunwale. 

The swan, after clearing the sedge, rose almost ver- 
tically into the air. These birds usually fly at a great 
elevation — sometimes entirely beyond the reach of 
sight. Unlike the wild geese and ducks, they never 
alight upon land, but always upon the bosom of the 
water. It was evidently the intention of this one to go 
far from the scene of his late dangers, perhaps to the 
great lake Winnipeg itself. 

After attaining a height of several hundred yards, 
he flew forward in a horizontal course, and followed 
the direction of the stream. His flight was now regu- 
lar, and his trumpet-note could be heard at intervals, 
as, with outstretched neck, he glided along the heav- 
ens. He seemed to feel the pleasant sensations that 
every creature has after an escape from danger, and no 
doubt he fancied himself secure. But in this fancy he 
deceived himself. Better for him had he risen a few 
hundred yards higher, or else had uttered his self- 
gratulation in a more subdued tone ; for it was heard 
and answered, and that response was the maniac laugh 


36 


trumpeter Swan anb JBalt) lEa^le 


of the white-headed eagle. At the same instant two 
of these birds — those already introduced — were seen 
mounting into the air. They did not fly up vertically, 
as the swan had done, but in spiral curves, wheeling 
and crossing each other as they ascended. They were 
making for a point that would intersect the flight of 
the swan should he keep on in his horizontal course. 
This, however, he did not do. With an eye as quick 
as theirs, he saw that he was ‘ ‘ headed ’ ’ ; and, stretch- 
ing his long neck upward, he again pursued an almost 
vertical line. But he had to carry thirty pounds of 
flesh and bones, while the largest of the eagles — the 
female bird — with a still broader spread of wing, was 
a “light weight’’ of only seven. The result of this 
difference was soon apparent. Before the trumpeter 
had got two hundred yards higher, the female of the 
eagles was seen wheeling around him on the same level. 
The swan was now observed to double, fly downward, 
and then upward again, while his mournful note echoed 
back to the earth. But his efforts were in vain. After 
a series of contortions and manoeuvres, the eagle darted 
forward, with a quick toss threw herself back down- 
ward, and, striking upward, planted her talons in the 
under part of the wing of her victim. The lacerated 
shaft fell uselessly down ; and the great white bird, no 
longer capable of flight, came whistling through the 
air. But it was not allowed to drop directly to the 


37 


Ube l^oung tDo^a^eurs 


earth ; it would have fallen on the bosom of the broad 
river, and that the eagles did not wish, as it would 
have given them some trouble to get the heavy carcass 
ashore. As soon as the male — who was lower in the 
air — saw that his partner had struck the bird, he dis- 
continued his upward flight, and, poising himself on 
his spread tail, waited its descent. A single instant 
was sufiicient. The white object passed him still flut- 
tering ; but the moment it was below his level he shot 
after it like an arrow, and, clutching it in his talons, 
with an outward stroke sent it whizzing in a diagonal 
direction. The next moment a crashing was heard 
among the twigs, and a dull sound announced that the 
swan had fallen upon the earth. 

The eagles were now seen sailing downward, and 
soon disappeared among the tops of the trees. 

The canoe soon reached the bank ; and Francois, 
accompanied by Basil and Marengo, leaped ashore, and 
went in search of the birds. They found the swan 
quite dead and lying upon its back as the eagles had 
turned it. Its breast was torn open, and the crimson 
blood, with which they had been gorging themselves, 
was spread in broad flakes over its snowy plumage. 
The eagles themselves, scared by the dog Marengo, 
had taken flight before the boys could get within shot 
of them. 

As it was just the hour for a “ noon halt” and a 



THE TRUMPETER SWAN AND THE BALD EAGLE 



XTrumpeter Swan an^ Balb Baale 


luncheon, the swan was carried to the bank of the 
river, where a crackling fire was soon kindled to roast 
him ; and while this operation was going on the 
“ naturalist” was requested by his companions to give 
them an account of the ” swans of America.” 


39 


CHAPTER IV. 


THK SWANS OF AMERICA . 

KRY well, then,” said Eucien, agreeing to the 



request. ‘ ‘ I shall tell you all I know of the 


swans; and indeed, that is not much, as the natural 
history of these birds in their wild state is but little 
understood. On account of their shy habits, there is 
not much opportunity of observing them ; and as they 
annually migrate and breed in those desolate regions 
within the Arctic circle, where civilized men do not live, 
but little information has been collected about them. 
Some of the species, however, breed in the temperate 
zones, and the habits of these are better known. 

‘ ‘ For a long time it was fancied there was but one 
species of swan. It is now known that there are 
several, distinguished from each other in form, colour, 
voice, and habits. ‘ White as a swan,’ is a simile as 
old, perhaps, as language itself. This, I fancy, would 
sound strangely to the ears of a native Australian, who 
is accustomed to look upon swans as being of the very 
opposite colour, for the black swan is a native of that 
country. 


40 


TLbc Swans of Hnterica 


“ According to the naturalist Brehm, who has given 
much attention to this subject, there are four distinct 
species of swans in Europe. They are all white, 
though some of the species have a reddish orange tinge 
about the head and neck. Two of them are ‘ gibbous,’ 
that is, with a knob or protuberance upon the upper 
part of the bill. One of these Brehm terms the ‘ white 
headed gibbous swan’ {Cygnus gibbus). The other is 
the ‘ yellow headed ’ (C olor) ; and this last also is 
known as the mute or tame swan, because it is that 
species most commonly seen in a tame state upon the 
ornamental lakes and ponds of England. The other 
two European species Brehm has designated ‘ singing 
swans,’ as both of them utter a note that may be heard 
to a considerable distance. 

“ The black swan of Australia (C. niger) has been 
naturalised in Europe, and breeds freely in England, 
where, from its great size and peculiar markings, it is 
one of the most ornamental of water fowls. It is, more- 
over, a great tyrant, and will not permit other birds to 
approach its haunt, but drives them off, striking them 
furiously with its strong broad wings. 

“Until a late period the swans of America were sup- 
posed to be all of one kind. This is not the case. 
There are now known to be three distinct species 
inhabiting the fur countries, and migrating annually to 
the South. That which is best known is the ‘ whistler, ’ 
or ‘ hooper ’ {C. Americanus), because it is the species 

41 


Ube ^oxxm Do^aGcurs 


that abounds in the old States upon the Atlantic, and 
was therefore more observed by naturalists. It is be- 
lieved to be identical with^one of the European ‘ sing- 
ing ’ swans {C. ferns), but this is not certain ; and for 
my part, I believe they are different, as the eggs of 
the American swan are greenish, while those of its 
European congener are brownish, with white blotches. 

“ The ‘ hooper ’ is four and a half feet in length, 
though there are males still larger, some of them 
measuring five feet. Its colour is white, except upon 
the head and back part of the neck, where there is a 
coppery tinge. The bill and feet are black. From the 
angle of the mouth to the eye there is a small naked 
‘ cere ’ of a bright yellow colour. These swans, like 
others of the genus, do not care much for the salt 
water. They are rarely seen upon the sea, except near 
its shores, where they may find the aquatic plants upon 
which they feed. Nor do they go out upon the large 
lakes. When found upon these, it is generally close in 
to the land. This is accounted for by the fact that the 
swans do not ‘ dive ’ for their food, but stretch down 
for it with their long necks, which Nature has pecu- 
liarly adapted to this very purpose. Their favourite 
food consists of the roots of aquatic plants, which are 
often farinaceous. As these grow best in the shallow 
small lakes and along the margins of rivers, such places 
are the usual resort of the swans. Although their 
diet is a vegetable one, it is not exclusively so, as they 
42 


^be Swans of Hinerlca 


will eat frogs, worms, and small fish. Unlike the 
ducks and geese, they rarely feed upon land, but while 
floating upon the surface of the water. They walk but 
awkwardly on land, and are at home only on water 
or in the air. In the air they are quite at home, and 
fly so swiftly that it is no easy matter to shoot them, 
especially when going before the wind. At such times 
they are supposed to fly at the rate of one hundred 
miles an hour. When moulting, and unable to rise 
into the air, it is no easy matter to follow them even 
with a canoe. By means of their broad feet and strong 
wings, they can flutter so quickly over the water, now 
and then diving, that the hunter cannot overtake them 
in his boat, but is obliged to use his gun in the pursuit. 

“The ‘hoopers’ are migratory, — that is, they pass 
to the north every spring, and southward again in the 
autumn. Why they make these annual migrations, 
remains one of the mysteries of nature. Some believe 
they migrate to the north, because they there find 
those desolate uninhabited regions where they can 
bring forth their young in security. But this explana- 
tion cannot be the true one, as there are also uninhab- 
ited regions in the south, even under the equator, 
where they may be equally free from the presence of 
man. Another explanation might be offered. In hot 
and tropical countries most of the small lakes and 
swamps, where these birds love to dwell, dry up during 
the summer months : hence the necessity of a migra- 


43 


Ube ^onm Wopaaeura 


tion to colder and moister regions. But this would 
only hold good of the wading and water birds ; it 
would not account for the migration of the many other 
birds of passage. 

‘ ‘ A better explanation may be this : The north and 
the cold zones are the natural habitat of most migra- 
tory birds. It is there that they bring forth their 
young, and there they are at home. In tropical regions 
they are only sojourners for a season, forced thither, 
some of them, by a cold which they do not relish ; but 
others, such as the water fowl, by the frost, which, 
binding up the lakes, rivers, and swamps, hinders 
them from procuring their food. They are thus com- 
pelled to make an annual migration to the open waters 
of the South, but as soon as the ice has given way 
before the genial breath of spring, they all return 
rejoicing to their favourite homg in the North, when 
their season of love commences. 

‘ The ‘ hoopers ’ follow this general law, and migrate 
to the northward every spring. They breed upon is- 
lets in the numerous lakes that stud the whole north- 
ern part of the American continent. Eminences in 
swamps are also chosen for breeding places, and the 
ends of promontories that jut out into the water. The 
spot selected is always such that the swan, when seated 
upon her nest, can have a view of the surrounding 
country, and detect any enemy long before it can 
approach her. The top of the dome-shaped dwellings 


44 


XTbe Swans of Hmerica 


of the musk-rat, or musquash {Fiber jzzbeihicus), is often 
selected by the swan for her nest. These curious little 
houses are usually in the midst of impenetrable 
swamps : they are only occupied by their builders dur- 
ing the winter ; and as they are deserted by them in 
early spring, they are therefore quite at the service of 
the swan for the ‘balance of the season.’ The bird 
makes a large cavity in the top, and lines it with such 
reeds and grass as may be found near the spot. 

“The hooper lays from six to eight eggs, and sits 
upon them for a period of six weeks, when the cygnets 
come forth covered with a thick down of a bluish-grey 
colour. While sitting upon her eggs, the swan is ex- 
ceedingly watchful and shy. She ‘ faces ’ towards the 
point whence she most apprehends danger. When the 
weather is severe,vand the wind cold and keen, she 
changes into that position which is most comfortable. 
If her nest be upon a promontory instead of an island, 
she usually sits with her head to the land, as she feels 
secure that no enemy will reach her from the waterside. 
From the land she has not only man to ‘ look out ’ for, 
but the wolverene (Gulo luscus), the lynx {Felts Cana- 
densis), foxes, and wolves. 

‘ ‘ The Indians often snare the swan upon her nest. 
Of course the snare — a running noose made from the 
intestines of the deer — ^is set in her absence. It is 
placed upon the side by which she enters, as these 
birds enter and leave the nest upon opposite sides. 

45 


XTbe louuG IDo^aoeurs 


The snare must be arranged with great care,’ and with 
clean hands ; and the Indians always take the precau- 
tion to wash their hands before setting it, else the 
swan, whose sense of smell is very acute, will perceive 
the presence of danger, and will not only keep away for a 
time, but sometimes desert the eggs altogether. There 
are many other birds that have a similar habit. 

“So much for the ‘ hooper,’ ” continued Tucien ; 
“ now for the ‘ trumpeter.’ This is the largest of the 
American swans, being found to measure seventy 
inches in length. Its specific name ‘ trumpeter ’ (C buc- 
cinator) is given to it on account of its note, w^hich re- 
sembles the sound of a French horn, or trumpet, played 
at a distance. The bird is white, with black bill and 
feet, and has also a reddish orange or copper tinge upon 
the crown and neck ; but it wants the yellow spot 
between the split of the mandibles and the eye. It is 
easily distinguished from the hooper, both by its louder 
note and larger body. Its habits, however, are very 
similar, except that it seems to be more gregarious, — 
small flocks of six or eight often appearing together, 
while the hooper is seen only in pairs, and sometimes 
solitary. Another distinction is, that the trumpeter 
arrives much earlier in its migrations to the North, 
being the earliest bird that appears except the eagles. 
It breeds as far South as latitude 6i°, but most gener- 
ally within the Arctic circle. Its nest is constructed 
similarly to those of the hooper, but its eggs are much 
46 


XTbe Swans of Hmertca 


larger, one of them being a meal for a moderate eater, 
without bread or any other addition. The trumpeter 
frequently arrives in the North before the lakes or 
rivers are thawed. It is then obliged to find suste- 
nance at the rapids and waterfalls, where the Indians 
can approach under cover, and many are shot at such 
times by these people. At all other times, as you, 
Francois, have observed, it is a bird most difficult of 
approach ; and the Indian hunters only attempt it 
when they have a long-range gun loaded with ball. 

‘ ‘ The third species of American swans is that known 
as Bewick’s swan (C. Bewickit)^ called after the natu- 
ralist of that name. It is the smallest of the three, 
rarely measuring over fifty-two inches in length, and 
weighing only fourteen pounds, while the hooper is 
over twenty pounds in weight, and the trumpeter is 
often obtained of the enormous weight of thirty ! 

“ Bewick’s swan is also said to be identical with one 
of Brehm’s singing swans. Its colour is almost similar 
to that of the hooper, and the two are often mistaken 
for each other. The size and the tail-feathers of all 
three of the American swans form a sufficiently specific 
distinction. In the trumpeter these are twenty-four in 
number, in the hooper twenty, while the small species 
has only eighteen. 

‘ ‘ Of the three, the last-mentioned is the latest on its 
annual journey, but it breeds farther North than either 
of the others. Its nest is found upon the islands of the 
47 


Ubc ISouno IDoi^a^eurs 


Arctic Sea ; it is usually built of peatmoss, and is of 
gigantic dimensions, being six feet long by five in 
width, and nearly two feet high. In the top of this pile 
is the nest itself, forming a large round cavity nearly 
two feet in diameter. The eggs are of a brownish 
white, with clouds of darker tint. 

“I have remarked,” continued Tucien, “a singu- 
larity in the geographical distribution of these three 
species. Upon the Pacific coast the smallest kind and 
the hooper only are met with, and the small ones out- 
number the others in the ratio of five to one. In the 
interior parts of the continent only the hoopers and 
trumpeters appear ; and the trumpeters are by far the 
most numerous, while upon the eastern coasts of 
America the hoopers are the sort best known. 

“The swans are eagerly hunted both b}^ the Indians 
and white hunters. Their skins, with the quills and 
down, form a source of profit to the natives of the fur 
countries, who dispose of them to the Hudson’s Bay 
Company. In some years as many as ten thousand skins 
have been exported, and sold at the rate of six or seven 
shillings each. Most of the skins thus sold were those 
of the trumpeter swans, which are the most numerous. 

“Now,” said lyucien, in conclusion, “you know as 
much about the swans as I do ; so I shall drop the 
subject, and recommend to all of you a piece of roast 
swan, which is now just done to a turn, and which I 
doubt not will be found less dry than my lecture.” 

48 


CHAPTER V. 


A SWAN-HUNT BY TORCHLIGHT. 

FEW days brought our travellers to the settle- 



ji\_ ment of Red River, where they made but a very 
short stay ; and, having procured a few articles which 
they stood in need of, they resumed their journey, and 
floated on towards Take Winnipeg. The swans were 
seen in greater numbers than ever. They were not less 
shy however, and Frangois, as before, in vain tried to get 
a shot at one. He was very desirous of bringing down 
one of these noble birds, partly because the taste he 
had had of their flesh had given him a liking for it ; 
and partly because their shyness had greatly tantalized 
him. One is always more eager to kill shy game, both 
on account of the rarity of the thing, and the credit one 
gets for his expertness. But the voyageurs had now 
got within less than twenty miles of Take Winnipeg, 
and Francois had not as yet shot a single swan. It 
was not at all likely the eagles would help him to 
another. So there would be no more roast swan for 
supper. 

Norman, seeing how eager Francois was to shoot one 
of these birds, resolved to aid him by his advice. 


4 


49 


Zbc ISouuG Woi^aoeurs 


“ Cousin Frank,” said he, one evening as they 
floated along, ‘ ‘ you wish very much to get a shot at 
the swans ? ” 

“I do,” replied Frangois, — “I do; and if you can 
tell me how to accomplish that business, I ’ll make you 
a present of this knife. ’ ’ Here Francois held up a very 
handsome clasp-knife that he carried in his pouch. 

A knife in the fur countries is no insignificant affair. 
With a knife you may sometimes buy a horse, or a tent, 
or a whole carcass of beef, or, what is stranger still, a 
wife ! To the hunter in these wild regions — perhaps a 
thousand miles from where knives are sold — such a 
thing is of very great value indeed ; but the knife 
which Francois offered to his cousin was a particularly 
fine one, and the latter had once expressed a wish to 
become the owner of it. He was not slow, therefore, in 
accepting the conditions. 

“Well,” rejoined he, “ you must consent to travel a 
few miles by night, and I think I can promise you a 
shot at the trumpeters — perhaps several.” 

“What say you, brothers ? ” asked Francois, appeal- 
ing to Basil and Tucien ; ‘ ‘ shall we have the sport ? 
Say yes. ’ ’ 

“ Oh ! I have no objection,” said Tucien. 

“ Nor I,” added Basil. “ On the contrary, I should 
like it above all things. I wish very much to know 
what plan our cousin shall adopt. I never heard of any 
mode of approaching these birds.” 

50 


H Swan^lbunt XTorcbUobt 


“Very well, then,” answered Norman, “I shall 
have the pleasure of instructing you in a way that is in 
use in these parts among the Indians, who hunt the 
swan for its skin and quills, which they trade to us at 
the post. We can manage it to-night, I think,” con- 
tinued he, looking up at the sky : ” there is no moon, 
and the sky is thick. Yes, it will be dark enough.” 

“ Is it necessary the night should be a dark one?” 
asked Francois. 

“ The darker the better,” replied Norman. “To- 
night, if I am not mistaken, will be as black as pitch. 
But we need to make some preparations. It is near 
sundown and we shall have just time to get ready for the 
business. Tet us go ashore, then, as quickly as possible. ’ ’ 

“Oh! certainly — let us land,” replied all three at 
once. 

The canoe was now turned to the shore ; and when it 
had arrived within a few feet of the land it was brought 
to a stop. Its keel was not allowed to touch the bot- 
tom of the river, as that would have injured the little 
craft. The greatest precaution is always observed both 
in landing and embarking these vessels. The voya- 
geurs first get out and wade to the shore, one or two 
remaining to hold the canoe in its place. The cargo, 
whatever it be, is then taken out and landed ; and 
after that the canoe itself is lifted out of the water, and 
carried ashore, where it is set, bottom upward, to dry. 
The birch- bark canoe is so frail a structure, that, were 


51 


UDe ^omQ tDo^ageurs 


it brought rudely in contact either with the bottom or 
the bank, it would be very much damaged, or might 
go to pieces altogether. Hence the care with which it 
is handled. It is dangerous, also, to stand upright in 
it, as it is so “ crank ” that it would easily turn over, 
and spill both canoe-men and cargo into the water. 
The voyageurs, therefore, when once they have got in, 
remain seated during the whole passage, shifting about 
as little as they can help. When landed for the night, 
the canoe is always taken out of the water as described. 
The bark is of a somewhat spongy nature ; and if left 
in the water for a length of time, would become soaked 
and heavy, and would not run so well. When kept all 
night, bottom upward, it drips and becomes dryer and 
lighter. In the morning, at the commencement of the 
day’s journey, it sits higher upon the water than in the 
afternoon and evening, and is at that time more easily 
paddled along. 

Our voyageurs, having got on shore, first kindled a 
fire to cook their supper. This they intended to de- 
spatch earlier than usual, so as to give them the early 
part of the night for their swan-hunt, which they ex- 
pected to finish before midnight. Tucien did the cook- 
ing, while Norman, assisted by Basil and Francois, 
made his preparations for the hunt. Francois, who was 
more interested in the result than any of them, watched 
every movement of his cousin. Nothing escaped him. 

Norman proceeded as follows : — 


52 


H Swan*=1bunt Uorcbltabt 


He walked off into the woods, accompanied by 
Francois. After going about an hundred yards or so, 
he stopped at the foot of a certain tree. The tree was 
a birch — easily distinguished by its smooth, silvery 
bark. By means of his sharp hunting-knife he 
“girdled” this tree near the ground, and then higher 
up, so that the length between the two “girdlings,” 
or circular cuttings, was about four feet. He then 
made a longitudinal incision by drawing t}je point of 
his knife from one circle to the other. This done he 
inserted the blade under the bark, and peeled it off, as 
he would have taken the skin from a buffalo. The tree 
was a foot in diameter, consequently the bark, when 
stripped off and spread flat, was about three feet in 
width ; for you must remember that the circumference 
of a circle or a cylinder is always about three times the 
length of its diameter, and therefore a tree is three times 
as much “ round"' as it is “ through." 

They now returned to the camp-fire, taking along 
with them the piece of bark that had been cut off. 
This was spread out, though not quite flat, still leaving 
it somewhat curved. The concave side, that which had 
lain towards the tree, was now blackened with pulver- 
ized charcoal, which Norman had directed Basil to pre- 
pare for the purpose ; and to the bark at one end was 
fastened a stake or shaft. Nothing more remained but 
to fix this stake in the canoe, in an upright position 
near the bow, and in such a way that the bottom of the 


53 


Ube ^omQ IDo^ageurs 


piece of bark would be upon a level with the seats, with 
its hollow side looking forward. It would thus form a 
screen, and prevent those in the canoe from being seen 
by any creature that might be ahead. 

When all this had been arranged, Norman shouldered 
the axe, and again walked off into the woods. This 
time his object was to obtain a quantity of “knots” 
of the pitch-pine {Pinus rigidd), which he knew would 
most likely be found in such a situation. The tree 
was soon discovered, and pointed out to Francois, 
who accompanied him as before. Francois saw that 
it was a tree of about fifty feet in height, and a foot 
in diameter at its base. Its bark was thick, very dark 
in the colour, and full of cracks or fissures. Its leaves, 
or ‘ ‘ needles, ’ ’ were about three inches long, and grew 
in threes, each three forming a little bunch, bound 
together at its base by a brownish sheath. These 
bunches, in botanical language, are termed “ fascicles.” 
The cones were somewhat shorter than the leaves, 
nearly of the shape of eggs, and clustered together in 
threes and fours. Francois noticed that the tree was 
thickly branched, and therefore there are many knots 
in the wood. For this reason it is not of much use as 
timber ; but on account of the resin which it contains, 
it is the best species for firewood ; and for that purpose 
it is used in all parts of the United States, where it 
grows. Most of the pine-wood sold for fuel in the large 
cities of America is the wood of this species. 

54 


H Swaus^lbunt bp XTorcbU^bt 


Francois supposed that his companion was about to 
fell one of the trees. He was mistaken, however ; 
Norman had no such intention ; he had only stopped 
before one to examine it, and make sure that it was the 
species he was in search of. He was soon satisfied 
of this, and moved on, directing his eyes along the 
ground. Again he stopped ; but this time it was by a 
tree that had already fallen — blown down, perhaps, by 
the wind. It was half decayed ; but Francois could 
see that it was one of the same species — the pitch- 
pine. 

This was the very thing Norman wanted, and plying 
his axe, he soon knocked out a large quantity of the 
resinous knots. These he at length collected, and 
putting them into a bag, returned with Francois to the 
fire. He then announced that he had no further 
preparations to make. 

All four now sat down to supper, which consisted of 
dry meat, with biscuits and coffee ; and, as their appe- 
tites were sharpened by their water journey, they made 
a hearty meal of it. 

As soon as they had finished eating, the canoe was 
launched and got ready. The screen of birchbark was 
set up, by lashing its shaft to the bottom timbers, and 
also to one of the seats. Immediately in front of this, 
and out upon the bow, was placed the frying-pan ; and 
this having been secured by being tied at the handle, 
was filled with dry pine-knots, ready to be kindled at a 
55 


Ubc ISoung lt)opaaeurs 


moment’s notice. These arrangements being made, 
the hunters only awaited the darkness to set forth. 

In the progress of their hunt they would be carried 
still farther down stream ; but as that was the direction 
in which they were travelling, they would only be pro- 
gressing on their journey and thus “ killing two birds 
with one stone. ’ ’ This was altogether a very pleasant 
consideration ; and, having stowed everything snugly 
in the canoe, they sat chatting agreeably and waiting 
for the arrival of night. 

Night came at length, and, as Norman had pre- 
dicted, it was as “dark as pitch.” Stepping gently 
into the canoe, and seating themselves in their respective 
places, they pushed out and commenced floating down 
stream. Norman sat near the bow, in order to attend 
to his torch of pine-knots. Francois was next to him, 
holding his double-barrel, loaded with buck-shot, which 
is the same size as that used for swans, and in England 
is even known as “ swan-shot.” 

Next came Basil with his rifle. He sat near Fran- 
cois, just by the middle of the little vessel. Eucien, 
who was altogether a man of peace principles, and but 
little of a shot compared with either of his brothers, 
handled the oar — not to propel the canoe, but merely to 
guide it. In this way the party floated on in silence. 

Norman soon kindled his torch, which now cast its 
red glare over the surface of the river, extending its 
fiery radii even to the banks on both sides of the 
56 


H Swan==t)unt by XTorcbUabt 


stream. The trees that overhung the water seemed 
tinged with vermilion, and the rippling wave sparkled 
like liquid gold. The light onl}^ extended over a semi- 
circle. From the manner in which the torch was placed, 
its light did not fall upon the other half of the circle, 
and this, by contrast, appeared even darker than it 
would otherwise have done. 

The advantage of the plan which Norman had 
adopted was at once apparent to all. Ahead of the 
canoe the whole river was plainly seen for a distance of 
several hundred yards. No object larger than a cork 
could have floated on its surface without being visible to 
those in the vessel — much less the great white body of 
a trumpeter swan. Astern of the canoe, on the other 
hand, all was pitchy darkness, and any one looking at 
the vessel from a position ahead could have seen noth- 
ing but the bright torch and the black uniform surface 
behind it. As I have already stated, the concave side 
of the bark was towards the blaze, and the pan con- 
taining the torch being placed close into the screen, 
none of the light could possibly fall upon the forms of 
those within the canoe. They were therefore invisible 
to any creature from the front, while they themselves 
could see everything before them. 

Two questions yet remained unanswered. First, — 
would our hunters find any swans on the river ? Sec- 
ond, — if they should, would these birds allow them- 
selves to be approached near enough to be shot at? 

57 


Xlbe ^oxxm IDopa^eurs 


The first question Norman, of course, could not answer. 
That was a matter beyond his knowledge or control. 
The swans might or might not appear, but it was to be 
hoped they would. It was likely enough. Many had 
been seen on the preceding day, and why not then ? 
To the second question, the young Canadian gave a 
definite reply. He assured his cousins that, if met with, 
the birds would be easily approached in this manner ; 
he had often hunted them so. They would either keep 
their place, and remain until the light came very near 
them, or they would move towards it (as he had many 
times known them to do), attracted by curiosity and 
the novelty of the spectacle. He had hunted deer in 
the same manner ; he had shot, he said, hundreds of 
these animals upon the banks of rivers, where they had 
come down to the water to drink, and stood gazing at 
the light. 

His cousins could well credit his statements. They 
themselves had hunted deer by torchlight in the woods 
of Louisiana, where it is termed “fire-hunting.” 
They had killed several in this way. The creatures, 
as if held by some fascination, would stand with head 
erect looking at the torch carried by one of the party, 
while the other took sight between their glancing eyes 
and fired the deadly bullet. Remembering this, they 
could easily believe that the swans might act in a 
similar manner. 

It was not long until they were convinced of it by 
58 


H Swans=1bunt bp UorcbUgbt 


actual experience. As the canoe rounded a bend in 
the river, three large white objects appeared in the 
“ reach” before them. A single glance satisfied all 
that they were swans, though, in the deceptive glare of 
the torch, they appeared even larger than swans. Their 
long upright necks, however, convinced the party 
they could be nothing else, and the canoe was headed 
directly for them. 

As our hunters approached, one of the birds was 
heard to utter his strange trumpet note, and this he 
repeated at intervals as they drew nearer. 

“I have heard that they sing before death,” mut- 
tered Francois to Basil, who sat nearest him. “ If so, 
I hope that ’s the song itself” ; and Francois laughed 
quietly at the joke he had perpetrated. 

Basil also laughed ; and lyucien, who had overheard 
the remark, could not restrain himself from joining in 
the laughter. 

“I fear not,” rejoined Basil; “there is hardly 
enough music in the note to call it a song. They may 
live to ‘ blow their own trumpet ’ a long while yet.” 

This remark called forth a fresh chorus of laughter, in 
which all took part ; but it was a very silent kind of 
laughter that could not have been heard ten yards off : 
it might have been termed “ laughing in a whisper.” 

It soon ended, however, as matters now became 
serious : they were already within less than two hun- 
dred yards of the game, and the greatest caution had to 
59 


Ubc l^oung IDo^aoeurs 


be observed. The gunners had arranged the order of 
fire : Basil was to shoot first, taking steadj^ aim with his 
rifie at one of the birds ; while Francois should fire as 
soon as he heard the report of his brother’s gun, taking 
the remaining swans upon the wing, with one or both 
barrels, as he best might. 

At length Basil deemed himself near enough, and, 
levelling his piece, fired. The bird threw out its wings, 
and flattened down upon the water, almost without a 
struggle. The other two were rising into the air, 
when “ crack ! crack ! ” went the two barrels of Fran- 
cois’ piece, and one of the swans fell back with a 
broken wing, and fluttered over the surface of the 
stream. Basil’s had been shot dead, and was taken up 
easily ; but the wounded bird was only captured after 
a long chase wdth the canoe ; and when overtaken, it 
struck so fiercely with its remaining wing, that one of 
the blows inflicted a painful wound on the wrist of 
Francois. Both, however, were at length got safely 
aboard, and proved to be a male and female of the 
largest dimensions. 


6o 


i 


CHAPTER VI. 


“cast away.” 

O F course, the reports of the guns must have 
frightened any other swans that were near. 
It was not likely they would find any more before 
going some distance farther down the river ; so, hav- 
ing stowed away in a safe place the two already killed, 
the hunters paddled rapidly onward. 

They had hardly gone half a mile farther, when 
another flock of swans was discovered. These were 
approached in a similar way, and no less than three 
were obtained — Francois making a remarkable shot, 
and killing with both barrels. A little farther down, 
one of the “ hoopers ” was killed ; and still farther on, 
another trumpeter ; making in all no less than seven 
swans that lay dead in the bottom of the canoe ! 

These seven great birds almost filled the little craft 
to the gunwales, and you would think that our “ torch- 
hunters” ought to have been content with such a 
spoil ; but the hunter is hard to satisfy with game, 
and but too often inclined to “ spill much more blood ” 
than is necessary to his wants. Our voyageurs, instead 
of desisting, again set the canoe in motion, and con- 
tinued the hunt. 

6i 


Ubc lacuna IDo^a^eiirs 


A short distance below the place where they had 
shot the last swan, as they were rounding a bend in 
the river, a loud rushing sounded in their ears, similar 
to that produced by a cascade or waterfall. On first 
hearing it, they were startled and somewhat alarmed. 
It might be a “fall,” thought they. Norman could 
not tell : he had never travelled this route ; he did not 
know whether there were falls in the Red River or not, 
but he believed not. In his voyage to the South, he 
had travelled by another route ; that was, up the Win- 
nipeg River and through Rainy Lake and the Lake 
of the Woods to Lake Superior. This is the usual 
and well-known track followed by the employes of the 
Hudson’s Bay Company ; and Norman had travelled it. 

In this uncertainty the canoe was brought to a stop, 
and our voyageurs remained listening. The noise 
made by the water was not very distant, and sounded 
like the roaring of “ rapids,” or the rush of a “ fall.” 
It was evidently one or the other ; but, after listening 
to it for a considerable time, all came to the conclusion 
that the sound did not proceed from the Red River 
itself, but from some stream that emptied into it upon 
the right. With this belief they again put the canoe 
in motion, and glided slowly and cautiously onward. 

Their conjecture proved to be correct. As they 
approached nearer, they perceived that the noise ap- 
peared every moment more and more to their right ; 
and presently they saw, below them, a rapid current 
62 


'' Cast 


sweeping into the Red River from the right bank. 
This was easily distinguished by the white froth and 
bubbles that were carried along upon its surface, and 
which had evidently been produced by some fall over 
which the water had lately passed. The hunters now 
rowed fearlessly forward, and in a few moments came 
opposite the debouchure of the tributary stream, when 
a considerable cascade appeared to their view, not 
thirty j^ards from the Red River itself. The water 
foamed and dashed over a series of steps, and then 
swept rapidly on, in a frothy current. They had 
entered this current, and were now carried along with 
increased velocity, so that the oarsmen suspended 
operations, and drew their paddles within the canoe. 

A flock of swans now drew their attention. It was 
the largest flock they had yet seen, numbering nearly 
a score of these noble birds, — a sight, as Norman 
informed them, that was exceedingly rare even in the 
most favoured haunts of the swan. Rarely are more 
than six or .seven seen together, and oftener only two 
or three. A grand coup was determined upon. Nor- 
man took up his own gun, and even Tucien, who 
managed the stern oar, and guided the craft, also 
brought his piece — a very small rifle — close to his 
hand, so that he might have a shot as well as the others. 

The canoe was directed in such a manner that, by 
merely keeping its head down the stream, it would 
float to the spot where the swans were. 

63 


Ube l^ouno Do^aoeuts 


In a short while they approached very near the great 
birds, and our hunters could see them sitting on the 
water, with upraised necks, gazing in wonder at the 
torch. Whether they sounded their strange note was 
not known, for the “sough” of the waterfall still 
echoed in the ears of the canoe-men, and they could 
not hear aught else. 

Basil and Norman fired first, and simultaneously ; 
but the louder detonations of Francois’ double-barrel, 
and even the tiny crack of Lucien’s rifle, were heard 
almost the instant after. Three of the birds were 
killed by the volley, while a fourth, evidently 
“ winged,” was seen to dive, and flutter down-stream. 
The others mounted into the air, and disappeared in 
the darkness. 

During the time occupied in this manoeuvre the 
canoe, no longer guided by Tucien’s oar, had been 
caught by some eddy in the current, and swept round 
stern-foremost. In this position the light no longer 
shone upon the river ahead, but was thrown up-stream. 
All in a downward direction was buried in deep dark- 
ness. Before the voyageurs could bring the canoe 
back to its proper direction, a new sound fell upon 
their ears that caused some of them to utter a cry of 
terror. It was the noise of rushing water, but not that 
which they had already heard and passed. It was 
before them in the river itself. Perhaps it was a 
cataract, and they were sweeping rapidly to its brink / 

64 


'' Cast Hwa^ ’ 


The voice of Norman was heard exclaiming, “ Hold 
with your oars ! — the rapids ! — the rapids ! ” At the 
same time he himself was seen rising up and stretching 
forward for an oar. All was now consternation ; and 
the movements of the party naturally consequent upon 
such a sudden panic shook the little craft until her 
gunwales lipped the water. At the same time she had 
swung round, until the light again showed the stream 
ahead, and a horrid sight it was. Far as the eye 
could see was a reach of foaming rapids. Dark points 
of rocks, and huge black boulders, thickly scattered in 
the channel, jutted above the surface ; and around and 
against these, the water frothed and hissed furiously. 
There was no cataract, it is true — there is none such in 
Red River — but for all purposes of destruction the 
rapids before them were equally dangerous and terrible 
to the eyes of our voyageurs. They no longer thought 
of the swans. The dead were permitted to float down 
unheeded, the wounded to make its escape. Their 
only thought was to stop the canoe before it should be 
carried upon the rapids. 

With this intent all had taken to the oars, but in 
spite of every exertion they soon found that the light 
craft had got within the influence of the strong current, 
and was sucked downward more rapidly than ever. 
Their backward strokes were to no purpose. 

In a few seconds the canoe had passed over the first 
stage of the rapids, and shot down with the velocity of 
s 65 


Ube l^ouno IDo^a^eurs 


an arrow. A huge boulder lay directly in the middle 
of the channel, and against this the current broke with 
fury, laving its sides in foaming masses. The canoe was 
hurried to this point ; and as the light was again turned 
up-stream, none of the voyageurs could see this danger- 
ous rock. But they could not have shunned it then. 
The boat had escaped from their control, and spun 
round at will. The rock once more came under the 
light, but just as the canoe, with a heavy crash, was 
driven against it. 

For some moments the vessel, pressed by the current 
against the rock, remained motionless, but her sides 
were stove in, and the water was rushing through. 
The quick eye of Basil— cool in all crises of extreme 
danger — perceived this at a glance. He saw that the 
canoe was a wreck, and nothing remained but to save 
themselves as they best might. Dropping the oar and 
seizing his rifle, he called to his companions to leap to 
the rock ; and all together immediately sprang over 
the gunwale. The dog Marengo followed after. 

The canoe, thus lightened, heeled round into the 
current, and swept on. The next moment she struck 
another rock, and was carried over on her beams. 
The water then rushed in— the white bodies of the 
swans, with the robes, blankets, and implements, rose 
on the wave ; the blazing knots were spilled from the 
pan, and fell with a hissing sound ; and a few seconds 
after they were extinguished, and all was darkness ! 

66 


CHAPTER VII. 


A BRIDGE OF BUCKSKIN. 



''HE canoe was lost, and all it had contained, or 


JL nearly all. The voyageurs had saved only 
their guns, knives, and the powder-horns and pouches, 
that had been attached to their persons. One other 
thing had been saved — an axe which Basil had flung 
upon the rock as he stepped out of the sinking vessel. 
All the rest — robes, blankets, swans, cooking utensils, 
bags of provisions, such as coffee, flour, and dried 
meat — were lost — irrecoverably lost. These had either 
drifted off upon the surface, or been carried under 
water and hidden among the loose stones at the bottom. 
No matter where, they were lost ; and our voyageurs 
now stood on a small naked rock in the middle of the 
stream, with nothing left but the clothes upon their 
backs, and the arms in their hands. Such was their 
condition. 

There was something so sudden and awful in the 
mishap that had befallen them, that for some minutes 
they stood upon the spot where they had settled with- 
out moving or addressing a word to one another. 


TLbc ISounG IDo^ageurs 


They gazed after the canoe. They knew that it was 
wrecked, although they could see nothing either of it 
or its contents. Thick darkness enveloped them, 
rendered more intense from the sudden extinction of 
the torch-light. They saw nothing but the foam 
flickering along the river, like the ghosts of the swans 
they had killed, and they heard only the roaring of the 
water, that sounded in their ears with a hoarse and mel- 
ancholy wail. 

For a long time they stood impressed with the lam- 
entable condition into which the accident had plunged 
them ; and a lamentable condition it was, sure enough. 
They were on a small rock in the midst of a rapid river. 
They were in the midst of a great wilderness, too, many 
long miles from a settlement. The nearest could only 
be reached by travelling through pathless forests, and 
over numerous and deep rivers. Impassable swamps, 
and lakes with marshy shores, lay on the route, and 
barred the direct course, and all this journey would 
have to be made on foot. 

But none of our young voyageurs were of that 
stamp to yield themselves to despair. One and all of 
them had experienced perils before — greater even than 
that in which they now stood. As soon, therefore, as 
they became fully satisfied that their little vessel was 
wrecked, and all its contents scattered, instead of de- 
spairing, their first thoughts were how to make the 
best of their situation. 


68 


H ot 


For that night, at least, they were helpless. They 
could not leave the rock. It was surrounded by rapids. 
Sharp, jagged points peeped out of the water, and be- 
tween these the current rushed with impetuosity. In 
the darkness no human being could have crossed to 
either shore in safety. To attempt it would have been 
madness, and our voyageurs soon came to this con- 
clusion. They had no other choice than to remain 
where they were until the morning ; so, seating them- 
selves upon the rock, they prepared to pass the night. 

They sat huddled close together. They could not 
lie down — there was not room enough for that. They 
kept awake most of the night, one or other of them, 
overcome by fatigue, occasionally nodding over in a 
sort of half-sleep, but awaking again after a few min- 
utes’ uncomfortable dreaming. They talked but little, 
as the noise of the rushing rapids rendered conversa- 
tion painful. To be heard, they were under the neces- 
sit}^ of shouting to one another, like passengers in an 
omnibus. It was cold, too. None of them had been 
much wetted in escaping from the canoe ; but they had 
saved neither overcoat, blanket, nor bulfalo-robe ; and, 
although it was now late in the spring, the nights near 
Lake Winnipeg, even at that season, are chilly. They 
were above the latitude of 50° ; and although in Eng- 
land, which is on that parallel, it is not very cold of a 
spring night, it must be remembered that the line of 
equal temperature — in the language of meteorologists 
69 


tibe l^ouna IDo^aoeurs 


the ^'isothermal line"' — is of a much lower latitude 
in America than in Europe. 

Another fact worth remembering is, that upon the 
eastern or Atlantic coast of the American Continent it 
is much colder in the same latitude than on the west- 
ern or Pacific side. The Pacific ‘ ‘ sea-board ’ ’ in its 
climate is more like the western edge of the old conti- 
nent. This would seem to indicate that the climate 
of a coast country is much influenced by the side upon 
which the ocean lies, whether east or west. This in 
reality is the case, for you may observe on your map 
that the western coasts of both the ‘ ‘ old world ’ ’ and 
the ‘ ‘ new ’ ’ are somewhat similarly placed in regard 
to their oceans, and hence the similarity of their 
climates. 

There are many other causes connected with this ; 
such as the direction of winds, and the different effects 
produced by them on the atmosphere when they have 
passed over water or over land. It was, and is still by 
many people believed, that the winds are produced by 
the air becoming heated in a particular place, and then 
ascending, and leaving a ‘ ‘ vacuum ’ ’ into which 
the colder air rushes from all sides around. This 
“rushing,” it was supposed, made the wind. To 
some extent this theory is true, but there are several 
other causes that operate in producing wind. Electric- 
ity — an agent hitherto but little known, but one of the 
most important elements of our Earth — has much to 
70 


H ot :fi3ucl?sl^in 


do with the winds ; and the revolution of the Earth on 
its own axis has also an influence upon them. Indeed 
it is to be wondered at, that mankind should have so 
long remained satisfled with the very unsatisfactory 
theory of the heated air. But it is not to be wondered 
at either, when we consider how little mankind has 
had to do with these things — when we consider that as 
yet nearly every country upon the face of the globe is 
despotic ; that the whole time of the great body of the 
people is occupied in a struggle for life — occupied in 
toiling for a few, who by the most cunning devices rob 
them of the fruits of their toils — rob them so skilfully 
that the poor blinded masses have grown to consider 
eternal toil as the natural state of man — nay more, are 
ready to persecute him who would elevate them, and 
worship him who would sink them deeper in baseness 
and bondage ; — when we reflect on this almost hope- 
less darkness of soul "that has marked the history of 
the past, and is too much the character of the present, 
we need not wonder that .so few have had either leisure 
or inclination to yield themselves to the acquirement 
or prosecution of scientific knowledge. ‘ ‘ The winds 
have blown where they listed, and we have heard the 
sound thereof,” but men absorbed in the hard struggle 
of life have found but little time to inquire ” whence 
they come or whither they go.” 

The people of the United States are yet but partially 
free. They still inherit, from customs and preju- 

71 


Ubc ISoung IDo^aoeurs 


dices, the fruits of an ancestral oppression, and a 
bondage of centuries of duration. But even their 
partial freedom has already shown its good effects. 
At this moment knowledge is progressing faster among 
these people than any other on the face of the earth. 
Meteorology begins to assume the palpable shape of an 
exact science. The winds are being traced in their 
currents, and followed through all their windings, by 
Maury and other men of talent ; and if you live twenty 
years longer (and I hope you may live three times as 
many years), you will no doubt be able to tell “ whence 
the wind cometh and whither it goeth.” 

Well, we began this politico-scientific discussion by 
observing that it was very cold in the latitude of 
Take Winnipeg, even in late spring. Only at night 
though ; the days are sometimes so hot there that you 
might fancy yourself in the tropics. These extremes 
are characteristic of the climate of all American coun- 
tries, and particularly those that lie at a distance from 
the sea-coast. 

Our voyageurs were chilled to the very bones, and 
of course glad to see the daylight glimmering through 
the tops of the trees that grew upon the banks of the 
river. As soon as day broke, they began to con- 
sider how they would reach those trees. Although 
swimming a river of that width would have been to any 
of the four a mere bagatelle, they saw that it was not 
to be so easy an affair. Had they been upon either 
72 


H Bribgc of BucF^sf^in 


bank, they could have crossed to the other without 
difficulty — as they would have chosen a place where 
the water was comparatively still. On the rock they 
had no choice, as the rapids extended on both sides 
above and below it. Between the boulders the current 
rushed so impetuously, that had they attempted to 
swim to either bank, they would have been carried 
downward, and perhaps dashed with violence against 
one or other of the sharp stones. 

As soon as it was light, they saw all this ; not with- 
out feelings of apprehension and uneasiness. Their 
whole attention was now occupied with the one object 
— how they should get to the bank of the river. 

The right bank was the more distant ; but the pas- 
sage in that direction appeared the easier one. The 
current was not so swift, nor yet did it seem so deep. . 
They thought they might ford it, and Basil made the 
attempt ; but he soon got beyond his depth ; and was 
obliged, after being carried off his feet, to swim up 
under the lee of the rock again. 

From the rock to the right bank was about an 
hundred yards’ distance. Here and there, at irreg- 
ular intervals, sharp, jagged stones rose above the 
surface, some of them projecting three feet or more 
out of the water, and looking very much like upright 
tombstones. Tucien had noticed these, and expressed 
the opinion that if they only had a rope, they might 
fling it over one of these stones, and then, holding it 
73 


Ube 13 oung Dogageuvs 


fast at the other end, might pass by that means from 
one to the other. 

The suggestion was a good one, but where was the 
rope to come from ? All their ropes and cords — lassoes 
and all — had been swept away in the wreck. Not a 
string remained, except those that fastened their horns, 
flasks, and other accoutrements ; and these were only 
small thongs, and would be of no use for such a pur- 
pose. It would require a rope strong enough to carry 
the weight of a man impelled by a rapid current — in 
fact, a weight equal to that of several men. They all 
set to thinking how this was to be obtained. Each 
looked at the other, and scanned the straps and thongs 
that were around their bodies. They were satisfied at 
a glance that these would not be sufficient to make such 
a rope as was wanted. They did not give up the hope 
of being able to obtain one. They were all of them 
accustomed to resort to strange expedients, and a 
sufficiently strange one now suggested itself. Basil 
and Norman seemed to have thought of it at the same 
time, for both at once unbuckled their straps, and 
commenced pulling off their buckskin hunting-shirts. 
The others said nothing, as they knew well what they 
were going to do with them — they knew they intended 
cutting them into strips, and then twisting a rope out 
of them. 

All four set to work together. Eucien and Frangois 
held the shirts taut, while Basil and Norman handled 


74 


H ®ri6fle of J6ucl?sJ?tn 


the knives, and in a few minutes the rock was covered 
with strips of buckskin about two inches wide, by a 
yard or so in length. These were next joined and 
plaited together in such a manner that a rope was 
formed nearly forty feet long. An eye was made at 
one end, and through this the other end was reeved — 
so that a running noose was obtained, in the same 
manner as the Mexicans and Indians make their lassoes. 
The rope was now ready for use, and Basil was the 
very hand to use it ; for Basil knew how to fling a lasso 
as well as either Mexican or Indian. He had practised 
it often, and had lassoed many a long-horned bull upon 
the prairies of Opelousas and the Attakapas. To 
Basil, therefore, the rope was given. 

He placed himself on the highest part of the rock, 
having flrst coiled the new-made lasso, and hung the 
coil lightly over his left arm. He then took the noose- 
end in his right hand, and commenced winding it 
around his head. His companions had laid themselves 
flat, so as not to be in the way of the noose as it circled 
about. After a few turns the rope was launched forth, 
and a loud “ hurrah ! ” from Francois announced that 
the throw was successful. It was so in fact, as the 
noose was seen settling smoothly over the jutting-stone, 
taking full hold upon it. A pull from Basil fixed it ; 
and in a few minutes it was made quite fast, without 
the slightest danger of its slipping off. The other end 
was then carried round a projecting point of the rock 

75 


Ubc Iffouna IDoyaaeurs 


on which they stood, and knotted firmly, so that the 
rope was quite taut, and stretched in a nearly horizon- 
tal direction, about a foot above the surface of the 
water. 

The voyageurs now prepared to cross over. Their 
guns, pouches, and flasks were carefully secured, so 
that the water could not damage them. Then each 
took a piece of the buckskin thong, and fastened it 
round his waist, leaving enough to form a running 
loop. This loop was intended to embrace the rope, 
and run along it, as they drew themselves forward by 
their hands. 

Basil passed over first. He was the oldest, and, as 
he asserted, it was but right he should run the risk in 
testing the new-fashioned bridge, of which he was the 
architect. It worked admirably, and sustained the 
weight of his body, with the whole force of the current 
acting upon it. Of course he was swept far down, 
and the rope was stretched to its full tension, but he 
succeeded in handing himself along, until he was able 
to touch the second rock, and clamber upon it in safety. 
During the passage across he was watched by his 
companions with emotions of no ordinary character, 
but as soon as he had reached the opposite end of the 
rope all three uttered a loud and simultaneous cheer. 
Lucien passed over next, and after him Francois. 
Notwithstanding his danger, Francois laughed loudly 
all the time he was in the water, while his brothers 
76 


H ot BucF?sl?tn 


were not without some fears for his safety. Marengo 
was next attached to the rope, and pulled safely over. 

Norman was the last to cross upon the buckskin 
bridge, but, like the others, he landed in safety ; and 
the four, with the dog, now stood upon the little 
isolated boulder, where there was just room enough to 
give them all a footing. 

A difficulty now presented itself, which they had 
not hitherto thought of. Another reach of rapid 
current was to be crossed, before they could safely trust 
themselves to enter the water. This they knew before, 
but they had also noticed that there was another j utting 
rock, upon which they might fling their rope. But the 
rope itself was now the difficulty. It was fast at both 
ends, and how were they to release it from the rock 
they had left ? One of them could easily cross over 
again and untie it, but how was he to get back to the 
others ? Here was a dilemma which had not prCvSented 
itself before, and they now saw themselves no better 
off than ever. The rapid that remained to be crossed 
was as dangerous as the one they had succeeded in 
passing. There was no hope that they could swim it 
in safety. They would certainly be swept with vio- 
lence against the rocks below. There was no chance, 
then, of their going an inch farther — unless by some 
means similar to that they had just used, and the rope 
was no longer at their service. 

For some time they all stood silent, each considering 
77 


Ubc J^oung Dosageucs 


the matter in his own way. How could they free the 
rope? 

“ It cannot be done,” said one. 

” Impossible,” rejoined another. ” We must make 
a second rope. Francois’ shirt still remains, and our 
leggings — we can use them.” 

This was the mode suggested by Frangois and Nor- 
man, and lyucien seemed to assent to it. They had 
already commenced untying their leggings, when Basil 
uttered the ejaculation — 

“Stop!” 

” Well, what is it, brother? ” asked Tucien. 

” I think I can free the rope at the other end. At 
all events, let me try. It will not cost much, either in 
time or trouble.” 

“How do you mean to do it, brother? ” 

“Sit close, all of you. Give me room — you shall 
see presently.” 

As directed by Basil, they all cowered closely down, 
so as to occupy as little space as possible. Basil hav- 
ing uncovered the lock of his rifle — which had been 
carefully bound up in a piece of deer’s bladder — placed 
himself in a firm position, and appeared as if about to 
fire. Such was his intention — for in a few moments 
he was seen to raise the gun to his shoulder, and take 
aim. None of his companions uttered a word. They 
had already guessed the object of this movement, and 
sat silently awaiting the result. 

78 


H of Buclisktn 


On the rock which they had left, the rope still bound 
fast passed around one of the angles in such a way that, 
from the point where Basil stood, it offered a fair mark. 
It was at this Basil was aiming. His object was to cut 
the thong with his bullet. He could not do it with a 
single shot, as the thong was broader than the bullet, 
but he had calculated that he might effect his purpose 
with several. If he did not succeed in cutting it clean 
through, the ball flattening upon the rock would, per- 
haps, tear the rope in such a manner that, by pulling 
by the other end, they might detach it. Such were 
the calculations and hopes of Basil. 

A moment more and the crack of his rifle was heard. 
At the same instant the dust rose up from the point at 
which he had aimed, and several small fragments flew 
off into the water. Again was heard Frangois’ “hur- 
rah,” for Frangois, as well as the others, had seen that 
the rope had been hit at the right place, and now 
exhibited a mangled appearance. 

While Basil was reloading, Norman took aim and 
fired. Norman was a good shot, though perhaps not 
so good a one as Basil, for that was no easy matter, as 
there were few such marksmen to be found anywhere, 
not even among the professional trappers and hunters 
themselves. But Norman was a fair shot, and this 
time hit his mark. The thong was evidently better 
than half divided by the two bullets. Seeing this, 
Frangois took hold of the other end, and gave it a 
79 


Ube lacuna IDo^aaeurs 


strong jerk or two, but it was still too much for him, 
and he ceased pulling, and waited the effect of Basil’s 
second shot. 

The latter had now reloaded, and, taking deliberate 
aim again, fired. The rope was still held taut upon the 
rock, for part of it dragged in the current, the force of 
which kept pressing it hard downward. Scarcely was 
the report heard, when the farther end of the thong 
flew from its fastening, and, swept by the running 
water, was seen falling into the lee of the boulder on 
which the party now stood. A third time was heard 
the voice of Francois uttering one of his customary 
‘ ‘ hurrahs.” The rope was now dragged up, and made 
ready for farther use. Basil again took hold of it ; 
and, after coiling it as before, succeeded in throwing 
the noose over the third rock, where it settled and held 
fast. The other end was tied as before, and all passed 
safely to the new station. Here, however, their labour 
ended. They found that from this point to the shore 
the river was shallow and fordable ; and, leaving the 
rope where it was, all four took the water, and waded 
safely to the bank. 


8o 


CHAPTER VIII. 


DECOYING THE “GOATS.” 

OR the present, then, our voyageurs had escaped. 



They were safe upon the river’s bank ; but 


when we consider the circumstances in which they were 
placed, we shall perceive that they were far from being 
pleasant ones. They were in the midst of a wilder- 
ness, without either horse or boat to carry them out of 
it. They had lost everything but their arms and their 
axe. The hunting- shirts of some of them, as we have 
seen, were destroyed, and they would now suffer from 
the severe cold that even in summer, as we have said, 
often reigns in these latitudes. Not a vessel was left 
them for cooking with, and not a morsel of meat or 
anything was left to be cooked. For their future sub- 
sistence they would have to depend upon their guns, 
which, with their ammunition, they had fortunately 
preserved. 

After reaching the shore, their first thoughts were 
about procuring something to eat. They had now been 
a long time without food, and all four were hungry 
enough. As if by one impulse, all cast their eyes 


6 


8i 


XTbe ^ox\m IDoyaaeurs 


around, and looked upward among the branches of the 
trees, to see if any animal could be discovered that 
might serve them for a meal. Bird or quadruped, it 
mattered not, so that it was large enough to give the 
four a breakfast. But neither one nor the other was to 
be seen, although the woods around had a promising 
appearance. The trees were large, and as there was 
much underwood, consisting of berry-bushes and plants 
with edible roots, our voyageurs did not doubt that 
there would be found game in abundance. It was 
agreed, then, that Lucien and Francois should remain 
on the spot and kindle a fire, while Basil and Norman 
went off in search of something to be cooked upon it. 

In less than an hour the latter returned, carrying an 
animal upon his shoulders, which both the boys recog- 
nised as an old acquaintance, — the prong-horned ante- 
lope {Antilope furdfer), so called from the single fork 
or prong upon its horns. Norman called it “ a goat,” 
and stated that this was its name among the fur- traders, 
while the Canadian voyageurs give it the title of 
“cabree.” Lucien, however, knew the animal well. 
He knew it was not of the goat kind, but a true ante- 
lope, and the only animal of that genus found in North 
America. Its habitat is the prairie country, and at the 
present time it is not found farther east than the prairies 
extend, nor farther north either, as it is not a creature 
that can bear extreme cold. In early times, however 
— that is, nearly two centuries ago— it must have 

82 


S)eco\?mG tbe ''Goats’’ 


ranged nearly to the Atlantic shores, as Father Henne- 
pin in his Travels speaks of “ goats ” being killed in 
the neighbourhood of Niagara, meaning no other than 
the prong-horned antelopes. The true wild goat of 
America is a very different animal, and is only found 
in the remote regions of the Rocky Mountains. 

What Norman had shot, then, was an antelope ; and 
the reason why it is called ‘ ‘ cabree ’ ’ by the voyageurs, 
and “goat” by the fur-traders, is partly from its 
colour resembling that of the common goat, but more 
from the fact, that along the upper part of its neck 
there is a standing mane, which does in truth give it 
somewhat the appearance of the European goat. 
Another point of resemblance lies in the fact, that the 
‘ ‘ prong-horns ’ ’ emit the same disagreeable odour, 
which is a well-known characteristic of the goat 
species. This proceeds from two small glandular open- 
ings that lie at the angles of the jaws, and appear spots 
of a blackish brown colour. 

Both Lucien and Francois had shot antelopes. They 
had decoyed them within range in their former expe- 
dition on the prairies, and had seen wolves do the 
same. The Indians usually hunt them. in this manner, 
by holding up some bright-coloured flag, or other cu- 
rious object, which rarely fails to bring them within 
shot ; but Norman informed his cousins that the In- 
dians of the Hudson’s Bay Company care little about 
the antelope, and rarely think it worth hunting. Its 
83 


XTbe 13 oung IDo^a^eurs 


skill is of little value to them, and they consider its flesh 
but indifferent eating. But the chief reason why they 
take so little notice of it is, because it is found in the same 
range with the buffalo, the moose, and the elk ; and, 
as all these animals are more valuable to the Indian 
hunter, he allows the antelope to go unmolested, unless 
when he is hard pressed with hunger, and none of the 
others are to be had. 

While skinning the antelope for breakfast, Norman 
amused his companions by relating how he had killed 
it. He said that he had got near enough to shoot it by 
practising a “dodge.” After travelling through the 
woods for some half-mile or so, he had come out into a 
country of “ openings,” and saw that there was a large 
prairie beyond. He saw that the woods extended no 
farther than about a mile from the banks of the river, 
and that the whole country beyond was without timber, 
except in scattered clumps. This is, in fact, true of the 
Red River country, particularly of its western part, from 
which the great prairies stretch westward, even to 
the “foot-hills” (piedmont) of the Rocky Mountains. 
Well, then, after arriving at the openings, Norman 
espied a small -herd of antelopes, about ten or a dozen 
in all. He would rather they had been something else, 
as elk or deer ; for, like the Indians, he did not much 
relish the “ goat’s ” meat. He was too hungry, how- 
ever, to be nice, and so he set about trying to get within 
shot of the herd. There was no cover, and he knew he 
84 


Deco^ina tbe ''Goats'* 


could not approach near enough without using some 
stratagem. He therefore laid himself flat upon his 
back, and raised his heels as high as he could into the 
air. These he kicked about in such a manner, as soon to 
attract the attention of the antelopes, that, curious to 
make out what it was, commenced running round and 
round in circles, of which Norman himself was the cen- 
tre. The circles gradually became smaller and smaller, 
until the hunter saw that his game was within range ; 
when, slyly rolling himself round on one shoulder, he 
took aim at a buck, and fired. The buck fell, and the 
rest of the herd bounded ofi* like the wind. Norman 
feeling hungry himself, and knowing that his compan- 
ions were suffering from the same cause, lost no time in 
looking for other game; but shouldering the “goat,” 
carried it into camp. 

By this time Lucien and Francois had a fire kindled 
— a roaring fire of ‘ ‘ pine-knots ” — and both were stand- 
ing b}^ it, smoking all over in their wet leggings. They 
had got nearly dry when Norman returned, and they 
proceeded to assist in butchering the antelope. The 
skin was whipped off in a trice ; and the venison, cut 
into steaks and ribs, was soon spitted and sputtering 
cheerily in the blaze of the pine-knots. Everything 
looked pleasant and promising, and it only wanted the 
prevSence of Basil to make them all feel quite happy 
again. Basil, however, did not make his appearance ; 
and as they were all as hungry as wolves, they could 

85 


Ube lacuna IDopaoeurs 


not wait for him, but set upon the antelope- venison, 
and made each of them a hearty meal from it. 

As yet they had no apprehensions about Basil. 
They supposed he had not met with any game, and 
was still travelling about in search of it. Should he 
succeed in killing any, he would bring it in ; and should 
he not, he would return in proper time without it. It 
was still early in the day. 

But several hours passed over, and he did not come. 
It was an unusual length of time for him to be absent, 
especially in strange woods of which he knew nothing ; 
moreover, he was in his shirt-sleeves, and the rest of 
his clothing had been dripping wet when he set out. 
Under these circumstances would he remain so long, 
unless something unpleasant had happened to him ? 

This question the three began to ask one another. 
They began to grow uneasy about their absent com- 
panion ; and as the hours passed without his appear- 
ing, their uneasiness increased to serious alarm. 
They at length resolved to go in search of him. They 
took different directions, so that there would be a better 
chance of finding him. Norman struck out into the 
woods, while Lucien and Francois, followed by the 
dog Marengo, kept down the bank — thinking that if 
Basil had got lost, he would make for the river to guide 
him, as night approached. All were to return to the 
camp at nightfall whether successful or not. 

After several hours spent in traversing the woods 
86 


Beco^tna tbe boats'* 


and openings, Norman came back. He had been 
unable to find any traces of their missing companion. 
The others had got back before him. They heard his 
story with sorrowing hearts, for neither had they fallen 
in with the track of living creature. Basil was lost, 
beyond a doubt. He would never have stayed so long 
had not some accident happened him. Perhaps he 
was dead — killed by some wild animal — a panther or 
a bear. Perhaps he had met with Indians, who had 
carried him off, or put him to death on the spot. 
Such were the painful conjectures of his companions. 

It was now night. All three sat mournfully over 
the fire, their looks and gestures betokening the deep 
dejection they felt. Although in need of repose, none 
of them attempted tg go to sleep. At intervals they 
discussed the probability of his return, and then they 
would remain silent. Nothing could be done that 
night. They could only await the morning light, 
when they would renew their search, and scour the 
country in every direction. 

It was near midnight, and they were sitting silently 
around the fire, when Marengo started to his feet, and 
uttered three or four loud barks. The echoes of these 
had hardly died among the trees when a shrill whistle 
was heard at some distance off in the woods. 

“Hurrah!” shouted Frangois, leaping to his feet 
at the instant, “ that ’s Basil’s whistle, I ’ll be bound. 
I ’d know it a mile off. Hurrah I ” 

87 


XTbe lourtG IDopaGCurs 


Francois’ ‘ ‘ hurrah ! ’ ’ rang through the woods, and 
the next moment came back a loud “ Hilloa ! ” which 
all recognised as the voice of Basil. 

‘ ‘ Hilloa ! ’ ’ shouted the three by the fire. 

“ Hilloa, my boys ! all right ! ” replied the voice ; 
and a few seconds after, the tall upright form of Basil 
himself was seen advancing, under the glare of the 
pine-knots. A shout of congratulation was again 
raised ; and all the party, preceded by Marengo, rushed 
out to meet the new-comer. They soon returned, 
bringing Basil up to the fire, when it was seen that he 
had not returned empty-handed. In one hand he 
carried a bag of grouse, or “prairie hens,” while 
from the muzzle of his shouldered rifle there hung 
something that was at once recognised as a brace of 
buffalo tongues. 

“ Vozld/'^ cried Basil, flinging down the bag, “how 
are you off for supper? And here,” continued he, 
pointing to the tongues, “here’s a pair of tit-bits 
that’ll make you lick your lips. Come! let us lose 
no time in the cooking, for I ’m hungry enough to eat 
either of them raw. ’ ’ 

Basil’s request was instantly complied with. The 
fire was raked up, spits were speedily procured, a 
tongue and one of the grouse were roasted ; and 
although lyucien, Francois, and Norman, had already 
supped on the “goat’s meat,” they set to upon the 
new viands with fresh appetites. Basil was hungrier 
88 


Deco^tuG tbe '' (Boats ” 


than any, for he had been all the while fasting. It 
was not because he was without meat, but because he 
knew that his comrades would be uneasy about him, 
and he would not stop to cook it. Of meat he had 
enough, since he had slain the two buffaloes to which 
the tongues had belonged ; and these same buffaloes, 
he now informed them, had been the cause of his 
long absence. 

Of course, all were eager to know how the buffaloes 
could have delayed him ; and therefore, while they 
were discussing their savoury supper, Basil narrated 
the details of his day’s adventure. 




89 


CHAPTER IX. 


A “partridge; dance;.” 

ETER leaving here,” said Basil, “ I struck off 



through the woods in a line that led from 


the river, in a diagonal direction. I hadn’t walked 
more than three hundred yards, when I heard a drum- 
ming sound, which I at first took to be thunder ; but, 
after listening a while, I knew it was not that, but the 
drumming of the ruffed grouse. As soon as I could 
ascertain the direction of the sound, I hurried on in 
that way ; but for a long time I appeared to get no 
nearer it, so greatly does this sound deceive one. I 
should think I walked a full mile before I arrived at 
the place where the birds were, for there were many of 
them. I then had a full view of them, as they went 
through their singular performances. 

“ There were, in all, about a score. They had se- 
lected a piece of open and level ground, and over this 
they were running in a circle, about twenty feet in 
diameter. They did not all run in the same direction, 
but met and crossed each other, although they never 


H partrtbGC Dance 


deviated much from the circumference of the circle, 
around which the grass was worn quite bare, and a 
ring upon the turf looked baked and black. When I 
£rst got near, they heard my foot among the leaves, 
and I saw that one and all of them stopped running, 
and squatted close down. I halted, and hid myself 
behind a tree. After remaining quiet a minute or so, the 
birds began to stretch up their necks, and then all rose 
together to their feet, and commenced running round 
the ring as before. I knew they were performing what 
is called the ‘ Partridge Dance ’ ; and as I had never 
witnessed it I held back a while, and looked on. Even 
hungry as I was, and as I knew all of you to be, so 
odd were the movements of these creatures, that I could 
not resist watching them a while, before I sent my un- 
welcome messenger into their ‘ ball-room.’ Now and 
then an old cock would separate from the pack, and 
running out to some distance, would leap upon a rock 
that was there ; then, after dropping his wings, flirting 
with his spread tail, erecting the ruff upon his neck, 
and throwing back his head, he would swell and strut 
upon the rock, exhibiting himself like a diminutive 
turkey-cock. After manoeuvring in this way for a 
few moments, he would commence flapping his wings 
in short, quick strokes, which grew more rapid as he 
proceeded, until a ‘ booming ’ sound was produced, 
more like the rumble of distant thunder than anything 
I can think of. 


91 


XTbe JScuno IDo^ageurs 


“ This appeared to be a challenge to the others ; and 
then a second would come out, and, after replying to it 
by putting himself through a similar series of attitudes, 
the two would attack each other, and fight with all the 
fury of a pair of game-cocks. 

“ I could have watched their manoeuvres much 
longer,” continued Basil, “ but hunger got the better 
of me, and I made ready to fire. Those that were danc- 
ing moved so quickly round the ring that I could not 
sight one of them. If I had had a shot gun, I might 
have covered several, but with the rifle I could not hope 
for more than a single bird ; so, wanting to make sure 
of that, I waited until an old cock mounted the rock, 
and got to ‘ drumming.’ Then I sighted him, and 
sent my bullet through his crop. I heard the loud 
whirr of the pack as they rose up from the ring ; and, 
marking them, I saw that they all alighted only a 
couple of hundred yards off, upon a large spruce-tree. 
Hoping they would sit there until I could get another 
shot, I loaded as quickly as possible, and stepped for- 
ward. The course I took brought me past the one I 
had killed, which I picked up, and thrust hastily into 
my bag. Beyond this I had to pass over some logs 
that lay along the ground, with level spaces between 
them. What was my surprise in getting among these, 
to see two of the cocks down upon the grass, and 
fighting so desperately that they took no notice of my 
approach ! At first I threw up my rifle, intending to 
92 


H partridge Dance '' 


fire, but seeing that the birds were within a few feet 
of me, I thought they might let me lay hold of them, 
which they, in fact, did ; for the next moment I had 
‘ grabbed ’ both of them, and cooled their bellicose 
spirits by wringing their heads off. 

“ I now proceeded to the pack, that still kept the 
tree. When near enough, I sheltered myself behind 
another tree; and taking aim at one, I brought him 
tumbling to the ground. The others sat still. Of 
course, I shot the one upon the lowest branch : I knew 
that, so long as I did this, the others would sit until 
I might get the whole of them ; but that if I shot one 
of the upper ones, its fluttering down through the 
branches would alarm the rest, and cause them to fly 
off. I loaded and fired, and loaded and fired, until 
half-a-dozen of the birds lay around the root of the 
tree. I believe I could have killed the whole pack, 
but it j ust then occurred to me that I was wasting our 
precious ammunition, and that, considering the value 
of powder and shot to us just now, the birds were 
hardly worth a load a-piece ; so I left off cracking at 
them. As I stepped forward to gather what I had 
killed, the rest whirred away into the woods. 

“ On reaching the tree where they had perched, I 
was very much surprised to find a raw-hide rope 
neatly coiled up, and hanging from one of the lower 
branches. I knew that somebody must have placed it 
there, and I looked round to see what ‘ sign ’ there 
93 


XLbc Igoung IDopaoeurs 


was besides. My eye fell upon the cinders of an old 
fire near the foot of the tree ; and I could tell that some 
Indians had made their camp by it. It must have 
been a good while ago, as the ashes were beaten into 
the ground by the rain, and, moreover, some young 
plants were springing up through them. I concluded, 
therefore, that whoever had camped there had hung 
the rope upon the tree, and on leaving the place had 
forgotten it. I took the rope down to examine it : it 
was no other than a lasso, full fifty feet long, with an 
iron ring neatly whipped into the loop-end ; and, on 
trying it with a pull, I saw it was in the best condition. 
Of course, I was not likely to leave such a prize behind 
me. I had grown, as you may all conceive, to have a 
very great regard for a rope, considering that one had 
just saved all our lives ; so I resolved on bringing the 
lasso with me. In order to carry it the more conven- 
iently, I coiled it, and then hung the coil across my 
shoulders like a belt. I next packed my game into the 
bag, which they filled chock u]| to the mouth, and was 
turning to come back to camp, when my eye fell upon 
an object that caused me suddenly to change my 
intention. 

‘ ‘ I was near the edge of the woods, and through the 
trunks I could see a large open space beyond, where 
there were no trees, or only one here and there. In 
the middle of this opening there was a cloud of dust, 
and in the thick of it I could see two great dark 
94 


H Dance’’ 


animals in motion. They were running about, and now 
and then coming together with a sudden rush ; and 
every time they did so, I could hear a loud thump, like 
the stroke of a sledge-hammer. The sun was shining 
upon the yellow dust-cloud, and the animals appeared 
from this circumstance to be of immense size — much 
larger than they really were. Had I not known what 
kind of creatures were before me, I should have believed 
that the mammoths were still in existence. But I 
knew well what they were : I had seen many before, 
carrying on just such a game. I knew they were 
buffalo bulls, engaged in one of their terrible 
battles.” 

Here Basil’s narrative was interrupted by a singular 
incident. Indeed, it had been interrupted more than 
once by strange noises that were heard at some 
distance off in the woods. These noises were not all 
alike : at one time they resembled the barking of a 
cur dog ; at another, they might have been mistaken 
for the gurglings of a person who was being hanged ; 
and then would follow a shriek so dreadful that for 
some time the woods would echo with its dismal sound ! 
After the shriek a laugh would be heard, but a miser- 
able “haw-haw-haw!” unlike the laugh of a sane 
person. 

All these strange voices were calculated to inspire 
terror,. and so have they many a time, with travellers 
not accustomed to the solitary woods of America. 


95 


Ube l^ouuG Dopageurs 


But our young voyageurs were not at all alarmed by 
them. They knew from what sort of a creature they 
proceeded ; they knew they were the varying notes of 
the great horned-owl {Strix virginiana) ; and as they 
had seen and heard many a one before, they paid no 
heed to this individual. 

While Basil was going on with his relation, the bird 
had been several times seen to glide past, and circle 
around upon his noiseless pinions. So easy was his 
flight, that the slightest inclining of his spread tail, or 
the bending of his broad wing, seemed sufiicient to 
turn and carry him in any direction. Nothing could 
be more graceful than his flight, which was not unlike 
that of the eagle, while he was but little inferior in size 
to one of these noble birds. 

What interrupted Basil was, that the owl had 
alighted upon a branch not twenty feet from where they 
were all sitting round the fire, by the blaze of which 
they now had a full view of this singular creature. 
The moment it alighted, it commenced uttering its 
hideous and unmusical cries, at the same time going 
through such a variety of contortions, both with its 
head and body, as to cause the whole party a fit of 
laughter. It was, in fact, an odd and interesting 
sight to witness its grotesque movements, as it turned 
first its body, and then its head around, without 
moving the shoulders, while its great honey-coloured 
eyes glared in the light of the fire. At the end of every 
q6 


H partriDge Dance'' 


attitude and utterance, it would snap its bill with such 
violence, that the cracking of the mandibles upon 
each other might have been heard to the distance of 
several hundred yards. 

This was too much for Francois’ patience to bear, and 
he immediately crept to his gun. He had got hold of 
the piece, and cocked it ; but, just as he was about to 
take aim, the owl dropped silently down from the 
branch, and, gliding gently forward, thrust out its 
feathered leg, and lifted one of the grouse in its talons. 
The latter had been lying upon the top of a fallen tree 
not six feet from the fire ! The owl, after clutching it, 
rose into the air ; and the next moment would have 
been lost in darkness, but the crack of Frangois’ rifle 
put a sudden stop to its flight, and with the grouse still 
clinging to its claws it fell fluttering to the earth. Ma- 
rengo jumped forward to seize it ; but Marengo little 
knew the sort of creature he had to deal with. It hap- 
pened to be only “ winged,” and as soon as the dog came 
near, it threw itself upon its back, and struck at him 
with its talons so wickedly, that he was fain to ap- 
proach it with more caution. It cost Marengo a con- 
siderable fight before he succeeded in getting his jaws 
over it. During the contest it continually snapped its 
bill, while its great goggle eyes kept alternately and 
quickly opening and closing, and the feathers being 
erected all over its body, gave it the appearance of being 
twice its real size. Marengo at length succeeded in 

7 


97 


Ubc l^oung IDo^aaeurs 


‘ ‘ crunching ’ ’ it — although not until he was well 
scratched about the snout — and its useless carcass hav- 
ing been thrown upon the ground, the dog continued to 
worry and chew at it, while Basil went on with his 
narration. 


CHAPTER X. 


BASII. AND THE BISON-BUEE. 

S soon as I saw the buffaloes,” continued Basil, 



“my first thought was to get near, and have 


a shot at them. They were worth a charge of powder 
and lead, and I reflected that if I could kill but one of 
them, it would ensure us against hunger for a couple 
of weeks to come. So I hung my game-bag to the 


branch of a tree, and set about approaching them. I 


saw that the wind was in my favour, and there was no 
danger of their scenting me. But there was no cover 
near them — the ground was as level as a table, and 
there was not a score of trees upon as many acres. It 
was no use crawling up, and I did not attempt it, but 
walked straight forward, treading lightly as I went. In 
five minutes I found myself within good shooting range. 
Neither of the bulls had noticed me. They were too 
busy with one another, and in all my life I never saw 
two creatures fighting in such earnest. They were 
foaming at the mouth, and the steam poured out of 
their nostrils incessantly. At times, they would back 
from each other like a pair of rams, and then rush to- 


99 


Ubc ISouTtG IDo^aaeurs 


gether head-foremost, until their skulls cracked with 
the terrible collision. One would have fancied that 
they would break them at every fresh encounter, but 
I knew the thickness of a buffalo’s skull before that 
time. I remember having fired a musket at one that 
stood fronting me not more than six feet distant, when, 
to my surprise, the bullet flattened and fell to the 
ground before the nose of the buffalo ! The creature 
was not less astonished than myself, as up to that time 
it had not seen me. 

“ Well,” continued Basil after a pause, ” I did not 
stop long to watch the battle of the bison-bulls. I was 
not curious about that. I had seen such many a time. 
I was thinking about the meat ; and I paused just long 
enough to select the one that appeared to have the 
most fat upon his flanks, when I drew up my rifle and 
fired. I aimed for the heart, and my aim was a true 
one, for the animal came to its knees along with the 
crack. Just at that moment the other was charging 
upon it, and, to my surprise, it continued to run on, 
until striking the wounded one full butt upon the fore- 
head, it knocked the latter right over upon its side ; 
where, after giving half-a-dozen kicks, it lay quite dead. 

‘‘The remaining bull had dashed some paces be- 
yond the .spot, and now turned round again to renew 
his attack. On seeing his antagonist stretched out 
and motionless, he seemed to be as much astonished 
as I was. At first, no doubt, he fancied himself the 


lOO 


Basil anb tbe Bisons=Bull 


author of a grand coup, for it was plain that up to 
this time he had neither noticed my presence, nor the 
report of the rifle. The bellowing noise that both 
were making had drowned the latter ; and the dust, 
together with the long shaggy tufts that hung over his 
eyes, had prevented him from seeing anything more 
than his rival, with whom he was engaged. Now that 
the other was no longer able to stand before him, and 
thinking it was himself that had done the deed, he 
tossed up his head and snorted in triumph. At this 
moment, the matted hair was thrown back from his eyes, 
and the dust having somewhat settled away, he sighted 
me, where I stood reloading my gun. I fancied he 
would take off before I could finish, and I made all the 
haste in my power — so much so that I dropped the 
box of caps at my feet. I had taken one out, how- 
ever, and hurriedly adjusted it, thinking to myself, as 
I did so, that the box might lie where it was until I 
had finished the job. I brought the piece to my 
shoulder, when, to my surprise, the bull, instead of 
running away, as I had expected, set his head, and utter- 
ing one of his terrible bellows, came rushing towards me. 
I fired, but the shot was a random one, and though it 
hit him in the snout, it did not in the least disable him. 
Instead of keeping him off, it only seemed to irritate 
him the more, and his fury was now at its height. 

“ I had no time to load again. He was within a 
few feet of me when I fired, and it was with difficulty 

lOI 


Ubc l^ouuG IDo^ageurB 


that, by leaping to one side, I avoided his horns ; but 
I did so, and he passed me with such violence that I 
felt the ground shake under his heavy tread. 

“ He wheeled immediately, and made at me a second 
time. I knew that if he once touched me I was gone. 
His horns were set, and his eyes glared with a terrible 
earnestness. I rushed towards the body of the buffalo 
that lay near, hoping that this might assist me in 
avoiding the onset. It did so, for, as he dashed for- 
ward over it, he became entangled among the limbs, 
and again charged without striking me. He turned, 
however, as quick as thought, and again rushed bel- 
lowing upon me. There was a tree near at hand. I 
had noticed it before, but I could not tell whether I 
should have time to reach it. I was now somewhat 
nearer it, and, fearing that I might not be able to 
dodge the furious brute any longer upon the ground, 
I struck out for the tree. You may be sure I did my 
best at running. I heard the bull coming after, but 
before he could overtake me, I had got to the root of 
the tree. It was my intention, at first, only to take 
shelter behind the trunk ; but when I had got there, I 
noticed that there were some low branches, and catch- 
ing one of these I swung myself up among them. 

“ The bull passed under me with a rush — almost 
touching my feet as I hung by the branch — but I was 
soon safely lodged in a fork, and out of his reach. 

“ My next thought was to load my gun, and fire at 


102 



BASIL AND THE BISON-BULL 









Basil anb tbe Bison^Bull 


him from my perch, and, with this intention, I com- 
menced loading. I had no fear but that he would 
give me an opportunity, for he kept round the tree, 
and at times attacked the trunk, butting and goring 
it with his horns, and all the while bellowing furiously. 
The tree was a small one, and it shook so, that I began 
to fear it might break down. I therefore made all the 
haste I could to get in the load, expecting soon to put 
an end to his attacks. I succeeded at length in ram- 
ming down the bullet, and was just turning the gun 
to put on a cap, when I recollected that the cap-box 
was still lying on the ground where it had fallen ! The 
sudden attack of the animal had prevented me from 
taking it up. My caps were all within that box, and 
my gun, loaded though it was, was as useless in my 
hands as a bar of iron. To get at the caps would be 
quite impossible. I dared not descend from the tree. 
The infuriated bull still kept pacing under it, now 
going round and round, and occasionally stopping for 
a moment and looking angrily up. 

“ My situation was anything but a pleasant one. I 
began to fear that I might not be permitted to escape 
at all. The bull seemed to be most pertinacious in 
his vengeance. I could have shot him in the back, or 
the neck, or where I liked, if I had only had one cap. 
He was within three feet of the muzzle of my rifle ; 
but what of that when I could not get the gun to go 
off? After a while I thought of making some tinder 
103 


TLbc Iffoung Do^a^eurs 


paper, and then trying to ‘ touch off’ the piece with it, 
but a far better plan at that moment came into my 
head. While I was fumbling about my bullet-pouch 
to get at my flint and steel, of course my Angers came 
into contact with the lasso which was still hanging 
around my shoulders. It was this that suggested my 
plan, which was no other than to lasso the bull, and tie 
him to the tree ! 

“I lost no time in carrying it into execution. I 
uncoiled the rope, and first made one end fast to the 
trunk. The other was the loop-end, and reeving it 
through the ring, I held it in my right hand while I 
leaned over and watched my opportunity. It was not 
long before a good one offered. The bull still contin- 
ued his angry demonstrations below, and passed round 
and round. It was no new thing for me to fling a lasso, 
and at the first pitch I had the satisfaction of seeing 
the noose pass over the bison’s head, and settle in a 
proper position behind his horns. I then gave it a 
twitch, so as to tighten it, and after that I ran the rope 
over a branch, and thus getting a ‘ purchase ’ upon it, 
I pulled it with all my might. 

‘ ‘ As soon as the bull felt the strange cravat around 
his neck, he began to plunge and ‘ rout ’ with violence, 
and at length ran furiously out from the tree. But he 
soon came to the end of his tether ; and the quick jerk, 
which caused the tree itself to crack, brought him to 
his haunches, while the noose tightening on his throat 


104 


JSasil anb tbe ®i6on==Bull 


was fast strangling him. But for the thick matted 
hair it would have done so, but this saved him, and he 
continued to sprawl and struggle at the end of the rope. 
The tree kept on cracking, and as I began to fear that 
it might give way and precipitate me to the ground, I 
thought it better to slip down. I ran direct to where 
I had dropped the caps ; and, having got hold of the 
box, I soon had one upon my gun. I then stole cau- 
tiously back, and while the bison was hanging himself 
as fast as he could, I brought his struggles to a period 
by sending a bullet through his ribs. 

“As it was quite night when I had finished the 
business, of course I could not stay to butcher the 
bulls. I knew that you would be wondering what 
kept me, so I cut out the tongues, and coming by the 
place where I had left the grouse, brought them along. 
I left a ‘scare- wolf ’ over both the bulls, however, and 
I guess we ’ll find them all right in the morning.” 

Basil having finished the narration of his day’s 
adventures, fresh fuel was heaped on the embers, and 
a huge fire was built — one that would last until morn- 
ing. This was necessary, as none of them had now 
either blankets or bedding. Basil himself and Norman 
were even in their shirt-sleeves, and of course their 
only chance for keeping warmth in their bodies would 
be to keep up a roaring fire all the night. This they 
did, and all four laying themselves close together, slept 
soundly enough. 

105 


CHAPTER XI. 


thrkk curious trkks. 

EXT morning they were awake at an early 



hour. There was still enough of the tongues 


and grouse left, along with some ribs of the antelope, 
to breakfast the party ; and then all four set out to 
bring the flesh of Basil’s buffaloes into camp. This 
they accomplished, after making several journeys. It 
was their intention to dry the meat over the Are, so 
that it might keep for future use. For this purpose 
the flesh was removed from the bones, and after being 
cut into thin slices and strips, was hung up on poles at 
some distance from the blaze. Nothing more could be 
done, but wait until it became sufficiently parched by 
the heat. 

While this process was going on our voyageurs col- 
lected around the Are, and entered into a consultation 
about what was best to be done. At first they thought 
of going back to the Red River settlement, and obtain- 
ing another canoe, as well as a fresh stock of provi- 
sions and implements. But they all believed that 
getting back would be a toilsome and difficult matter. 


trbree Curious tlrees 


There was a large lake and several extensive marshes 
on the route, and these would have to be got round, 
making the journey a very long one indeed. It would 
take them days to perform it on foot, and nothing is more 
discouraging on a journey than to be forced by some 
accident to what is called “ taking the back-track.” 
All of them acknowledged this, but what else could 
they do? It is true there was a post of the Hudson’s 
Bay Company at the northern end of Take Winnipeg. 
This post was called Norway House. How were they 
to reach that afoot ? To walk around the borders of 
the lake would be a distance of more than four hundred 
miles. There would be numerous rivers to cross, as 
well as swamps and pathless forests to be threaded. 
Such a journey would occupy a month or more, and at 
Norway House they would still be as it were only at 
the beginning of the great journey on which they had 
set out. Moreover, Norway House lay entirely out of 
their way. Cumberland House — another trading-post 
upon the River Saskatchewan — was the next point 
where they had intended to rest themselves, after leav- 
ing the Red River settlements. To reach Cumberland 
House afoot would be equally difficult, as it, too, lay at 
the distance of hundreds of miles, with lakes, and rivers, 
and marshes, intervening. What, then, could they do ? 

“Tet us not go back,” cried Francois, ever ready 
with a bold advice; “let us make a boat, and keep 
on, say I.” 

107 


Ube ^owwQ tDo^aaeurs 


“Ha! Fraiifois,” rejoined Basil, “it’s easy to say 
‘ make a boat ’ ; how is that to be done, I pray ? ’ ’ 

“ Why, what ’s to hinder us to hew a log, and make 
a dug-out? We have still got the axe, and two 
hatchets left. ’ ’ 

Norman asked what Franpois meant by a dug-out. 
The phrase was new to him. 

“A canoe,’’ replied Frangois, “hollowed out of a 
tree. They are sometimes called ‘ dug-outs ’ on the 
Mississippi, especially when they are roughly made. 
One of them, I think, would carry all four of us well 
enough. Don’t you think so. Luce ? ’’ 

“Why, yes,’’ answered the student ; “a large one 
might : but I fear there are no trees about here of 
sufficient size. We are not among the great timber of 
the Mississippi bottom, you must remember.’’ 

‘ ‘ How large a tree would it require ? ’ ’ asked Nor- 
man, who knew but little of this kind of craft. 

“ Three feet in diameter, at least,’’ replied Lucien ; 
‘ ‘ and it should be of that thickness for a length of 
nearly twenty feet. A less one would not carry four 
of us.’’ 

“Then I am sure enough,’’ responded Norman, 
“that we won’t find such timber here. I have seen 
no tree of that size either yesterday, or while we were 
out this morning.’’ 

“Nor I,’’ added Basil. 

“ I don’t believe there ’s one,’’ said Lucien. 
io8 


Xlbree Curious XTrees 


“If we were in Louisiana,” rejoined Francois, “I 
could find fift}^ canoe- trees by walking as many yards. 
Why, I never saw such insignificant timber as this 
here.” 

“ You ’ll see smaller timber than this. Cousin Frank, 
before we reach the end of our voyage. ’ ’ 

This remark was made by Norman, who knew that, 
as they proceeded northward, the trees would be found 
decreasing in size until they would appear like garden 
shrubbery. 

“But come,” continued he, “if we can’t build a 
craft to carry us from one tree, perhaps we can do it 
out of three,"' 

“With three!” echoed Frangois. “I should like 
to see a canoe made from three trees ! Is it a raft you 
mean. Cousin Norman ? ” 

“No,” responded the other; “a canoe, and one 
that will serve us for the rest of our voyage. ’ ’ 

All three — Basil, Lucien, and Frangois — looked to 
their cousin for an explanation. 

“ You would rather not go back up the river? ” he 
inquired, glancing from one to the other. 

“We wish to go on — all of us,” answered Basil, 
speaking for his brothers as well. 

“Very well,” assented the young fur- trader ; “I 
think it is better as you wish it. Out of these trees I 
can build a boat that will carry us. It will take us 
some days to do it, and some time to find the timber, 
109 


Zbc Iffouna IDo^a^eurs 


but I am tolerably certain it is to be found in these 
woods. To do the job properly I want three kinds ; 
two of them I can see from where I sit ; the third I 
expect will be got in the hills we saw this morning.” 

As Norman spoke he pointed to two trees that grew 
among many others not far from the spot. These trees 
were of very different kinds, as was easily told by their 
leaves and bark. The nearer and more conspicuous 
of them at once excited the curiosity of the three 
Southerners. lyucien recognised it from its botanical 
description. Even Basil and Francois, though they 
had never seen it, as it is not to be found in the hot 
clime of Louisiana, knew it from the accounts given 
of it by travellers. The tree was the celebrated 
” canoe-birch,” or, as Lucien named it, ” paper-birch ” 
{Betula papyracea), celebrated as the tree out of whose 
bark those beautiful canoes are made that carry thou- 
sands of Indians over the interior lakes and rivers of 
North America ; out of whose bark whole tribes of 
these people fashion their bowls, their pails, and 
their baskets ; with which they cover their tents, and 
from which they even make their soup-kettles and 
boiling-pots ! This, then, was the canoe birch-tree, 
so much talked of, and so valuable to the poor Indians 
who inhabit the cold regions where it grows. 

Our young Southerners contemplated the tree with 
feelings of interest and curiosity. They saw that it 
was about sixty feet high, and somewhat more than a 


no 


XTbree Curious Crees 


foot in diameter. Its leaves were nearly cordate, or 
heart-shaped, and of a very dark-green colour ; but 
that which rendered it most conspicuous among the 
other trees of the forest was the shining white or silver- 
coloured bark that covered its trunk, and its numerous 
slender branches. This bark is only white externally. 
When you have cut through the epidermis you find it 
of a reddish tinge, very thick, and capable of being 
divided into several layers. The wood of the tree 
makes excellent fuel, and is also often used for articles 
of furniture. It has a close, shining grain, and is strong 
enough for ordinary implements ; but if exposed to 
the weather will decay rapidly. 

The ‘ ‘ canoe-birch ’ ’ is not the only species of these 
trees found in North America. The genus Betula (so 
called from the Celtic word oatu, which means birch) 
has at least half a dozen other known representatives 
in these parts. There is the “ white birch ” {B. popu- 
lifolia), a worthless tree of some twenty feet in height, 
and less than six inches diameter. The bark of this 
species is useless, and its wood, which is soft and white, 
is unfit even for fuel. It grows, however, in the poor- 
est soil. Next there is a species called the “cherry- 
birch “ {B. lento), so named from the resemblance of its 
bark to the common cherry-tree. It is also called 
“ sweet birch,” because its young twigs, when crushed, 
give out a pleasant aromatic odour. Sometimes the 
name of “black birch ” is given to this species. It is 


II 


Ube JgouuG IDo^aaeurs 


a tree of fifty or sixty feet in height, and its wood is 
much used in cabinet-work, as it is close-grained, of a 
beautiful reddish colour, and susceptible of a high polish. 

The ‘ ‘ yellow birch ” is a tree of the same size, and 
is so called from the colour of its epidermis. It is like- 
wise used in cabinet-work, though it is not considered 
equal in quality to the cherry-birch. Its leaves and 
twigs have also an aromatic smell when bruised, not 
so strong, however, as the last mentioned. The wood 
makes excellent fuel, and is much used for that purpose 
in some of the large cities of America. The bark, too, 
is excellent for tanning — almost equal to that of the 
oak. 

The “red birch ’’ is still another species, which takes 
its name from the reddish hue of its bark. This is 
equal in size to the canoe-birch, often growing seventy 
feet high, with a trunk of nearly three feet diameter. 
Its branches are long, slender, and pendulous ; and it 
is from the twigs of this species that most of the 
‘ ‘ birch-brooms ’ ’ used in America are made. 

Still another species of American birches is the 
“ dwarf birch “ {Betula nano), so called from its dimin- 
utive size, which is that of a shrub, only eighteen 
inches or two feet in height. It usually grows in very 
cold or mountainous regions, and is the smallest of 
these interesting trees. 

This information regarding the birches of America 
was given by Tucien to his brothers, not at that time, 


II2 


TLbvcc Curious Crees 


but shortly afterward, wheu the three were engaged in 
felling one of these trees. Just then other matters 
occupied them, and they had only glanced, first at the 
canoe-birch and then at the other tree which Norman 
had pointed out. The latter was of a different genus. 
It belonged to the order Coniferce^ or cone-bearing trees, 
as was evident from the cone-shaped fruits that hung 
upon its branches, as well as from its needle-like ever- 
green leaves. 

The cone-bearing trees of America are divided by 
botanists into three great sub-orders — the Pines, the 
Cypresses, and the Yews. Each of these includes 
several genera. By the “pine tribe” is meant all 
those trees known commonly by the names pine, spruce, 
fir, and larch ; while the Cupressincs, or cypress tribe, 
are the cypress proper, the cedars, the arbor- vitae, and 
the junipers. The yew tribe has fewer genera or 
species ; but the trees in America known as yews and 
hemlocks — of which there are several varieties — belong 
to it. 

Of the pine tribe a great number of species exist 
throughout the North American Continent. The late 
explorations on the western slope of the Rocky Moun- 
tains, and in the countries bordering on the Pacific, 
have brought to light a score of species hitherto un- 
known to the botanist. Many of these are trees of a 
singular and valuable kind. Several species found in 

the mountains of North Mexico, and throughout those 
8 

113 


Ubc Boung Wo^aaeurs 


desert regions where hardly any other vegetation exists, 
have edible seeds upon which whole tribes of Indians 
subsist for many months in the year. The Spanish 
Americans call them pinon trees, but there are several 
species of them in different districts. The Indians parch 
the seeds, and sometimes pound them into a coarse 
meal, from which they bake a very palatable bread. 
This bread is often rendered more savoury by mixing 
the meal with dried “prairie crickets,” a species of 
coleopterous insects — that is, insects with a crustaceous 
or shell-like covering over their wings — which are com- 
mon in the desert wilds where these Indians dwell. 
Some prairie travellers have pronounced this singular 
mixture equal to the “ best pound-cake.” 

The “ Lambert pine,” so called from the botanist of 
that name, is found in Oregon and California, and may 
be justly considered one of the wonders of the world. 
Three hundred feet is not an uncommon height for this 
vegetable giant ; and its cones have been seen eighteen 
inches in length, hanging like sugar-loaves from its 
high branches ! The wonderful ‘ ‘ palo Colorado ’ ’ of 
California is another giant of the pine tribe. It also 
grows above three hundred feet high, with a diameter 
of sixteen feet! Then there is the “red pine,” of 
eighty feet high, much used for the decks and masts 
of ships; the “pitch-pine” {Pinus rigida), a smaller 
tree, esteemed for its fuel, and furnishing most of the 
fire- wood used in some of the American cities. From 


XLbvcc Curious Crees 


this species the strong burning “ knots ” are obtained. 
There is the “white pine” {Pinus strobus), valuable 
for its timber. This is one of the largest and best 
known of the pines. It often attains a height of, a 
hundred and fifty feet, and a large proportion of those 
planks so well known to the carpenter are sawed from 
its trunk. In the State of New York alone no less 
than 700,000,000 feet of timber are annually obtained 
from trees of this species, which, by calculation, must 
exhaust every year the enormous amount of 70,000 
acres of forest ! Of course, at this rate the pine-forests 
of New York State must soon be entirely destroyed. 

In addition, there is the “yellow pine,” a tree of 
sixty feet high, much used in flooring houses ; and the 
beautiful “balsam fir,” used as an ornamental ever- 
green both in Europe and America, and from which is 
obtained the well-known medicine — the ‘ ‘ Canada 
balsam.” This tree, in favourable situations, attains 
the height of sixty feet ; while upon the cold summits 
of mountains it is often seen rising only a few inches 
from the surface. The “ hemlock spruce ” {P. Cana- 
densis), is another species, the bark of which is used in 
tanning. It is inferior to the oak, though the leather 
made by it is of excellent quality. The “ black ” or 
“ double spruce ” {P. nigra), is that species from the 
twigs of which is extracted the essence that gives its 
peculiar flavour to the well-known “ spruce beerP Be- 
sides these, at least a dozen new species have lately 
115 


XTbe ^oxxm IDopageurs 


been discovered on the interior mountains of Mexico — 
all of them more or less possessing valuable properties. 

The pines cannot be termed trees of the tropics, yet 
do they grow in southern and warm countries. In the 
Carolinas, tar and turpentine, products of the pine,^ are 
two staple articles of exportation ; and even under 
the equator itself, the high mountains are covered with 
pine-forests. But the pine is more especially the tree 
of a northern sj/lva. As you approach the Arctic cir- 
cle, it becomes the characteristic tree. There it appears 
in extensive forests, lending their picturesque shelter 
to the snowy desolation of the earth. One species of 
pine is the very last tree that disappears as the traveller, 
in approaching the pole, takes his leave of the limits 
of vegetation. This species is the “white spruce” 
{Pinus alba), the very one which, along with the birch- 
tree, had been pointed out by Norman to his compan- 
ions. 

It was a tree not over thirty or forty feet high, with 
a trunk of less than a foot in thickness, and of a 
brownish colour. Its leaves or ‘ ‘ needles ’ ’ were about 
an inch in length, very slender and acute, and of a 
bluish green tint. The cones upon it, which at that 
season were young, were of a pale green. When ripe, 
however, they become rusty-brown, and are nearly two 
inches in length. 

What use Norman would make of this tree in build- 
ing his canoe, neither Basil nor Francois knew. Tucien 

ii6 


TLbvcc durious drees 


only guessed at it. Francois asked the question, by 
saying that he supposed the “timbers “ were to come 
out of it. 

“No,” said Norman, “ for that I want still another 
sort. If I can’t find that sort, however, I can manage 
to do without it, but not so well.” 

‘ ‘ What other sort ? ’ ’ demanded Francois. 

“ I want some cedar- wood,” replied the other. 

“Ah ! that’s for the timbers,” said Francois; “I 
am sure of it. The cedar- wood is lighter than any 
other, and, I dare say, would answer admirably for 
ribs and other timbers.” 

“ You are right this time, Frank — it is considered 
the best for that purpose. ’ ’ 

“You think there are cedar-trees on the hills we 
saw this morning?” said Francois, addressing his 
Canadian cousin. 

“ I think so. I noticed something like them.” 

“ And I, too, observed a dark foliage,” said Tucien, 
“which looked like the cedar. If anywhere in this 
neighbourhood, we shall find them there. They usu- 
ally grow upon rocky, sterile hills, such as those 
appear to be — that is their proper situation.” 

“The question,” remarked Basil, “ought to be 
settled at once. We have made up our mind to the 
building of a canoe, and I think we should lose no 
time in getting ready the materials. Suppose we all 
set out for the hills. ” 


Zbc ISoung IDoyageurs 


“Agreed — agreed!” shouted the others with one 
voice ; and then shouldering their guns, and taking 
the axe along, all four set out for the hills. On reach- 
ing these, the object of their search was at once dis- 
covered. The tops of all the hills — dry, barren ridges 
they were — were covered with a thick grove of the red 
cedar {^Juniperus virginiancC). The trees were easily 
distinguished by the numerous branches spreading 
horizontally, and thickly covered with short dark green 
needleSj giving them that sombre, shady appearance, 
that makes them the favourite haunt of many species 
of owls. Their beautiful reddish wood was well known 
to all the party, as it is to almost every one in the 
civilised world. Everybody who has seen or used a 
black-lead pencil must know what the wood of the red 
cedar is like — for it is in this the black-lead is usually 
incased. In all parts of America, where this tree grows 
in plenty, it is employed for posts and fence-rails, as it 
is one of the most durable woods in existence. It is a 
great favourite also for kindling fires, as it catches 
quickly, and blazes up in a few seconds, so as to ignite 
the heavier logs of other timbers, such as the oak and 
the pine. 

The red cedar usually attains a height of about 
thirty to forty feet, but in favourable situations it 
grows still larger. The soil which it loves best is of a 
stony ,?and often sterile character, and dry barren hill- 
tops are frequently covered with cedars, while the more 

ii8 


Ubree Curious Crees 


moist and fertile valleys between possess a sylva of a 
far different character. There is a variety of the red 
cedar, which trails upon the ground like a creeping 
plant, its branches even taking root again. This is 
rather a small bush than a tree, and is often seen hang- 
ing down the face of inacessible cliffs. It is known 
among botanists as the Juniperus prostrata. 

“ Now,” said Norman, after examining a few of the 
cedar-trees, ” we have here all that ’s wanted to make 
our canoe. We need lose no more time, but go to work 
at once. 

“Very well,” replied the three brothers, “we are 
ready to assist you, — tell us what to do.” 

‘ ‘ In the first place, ’ ’ said the other, ‘ ‘ I think we 
had better change our camp to this spot, as I 'see all 
the different kinds of trees here, and much better ones 
than those near the river. There,” continued he, 
pointing to a piece of moist ground in the valley, — 
“ there are some splendid birches, and there beside 
them is plenty of the ipinette'' (so the voyageurs 
term the white spruce). “ It will save us many jour- 
neys if we go back and bring our meat to this place at 
once. ’ ’ 

To this they all of course agreed, and started back 
to their first camp. They soon returned with the meat 
and other things, and having chosen a clean spot under 
a large-spreading cedar-tree, they kindled a new fire 
and made their camp by it— that is, they strung up 
119 


Ube ]3oung Doyageurs 


the provisions, hung their horns and pouches upon the 
branches around, and rested their guns against the 
trees. They had no tent to pitch, but that is not neces- 
sary to constitute a camp. In the phraseology of the 
American hunter, wherever you kindle your fire or 
spend the night is a “ camp.” 


120 


CHAPTER XII. 


HOW TO BUITD A BARK CANOE). 

N orman expected that they would be able to 
finish the canoe in about a week. Of course, 
the sooner the better, and no time was lost in setting 
about it. The ribs or ‘ ‘ timbers ’ ’ were the first thing 
to be fashioned, and a number of straight branches of 
cedar were cut, out of which they were to be made. 
These branches were cleared of twigs, and rendered of 
an equal thickness at both ends. They were then 
flattened with the knife ; and, by means of a little 
sweating in the ashes, were bent so as to bear some re- 
semblance in shape to the wooden ox-yokes commonly 
used in America, or indeed to the letter U. The ribs 
when thus bent were not all of the same width. On 
the contrary, those which were intended to be placed 
near the middle or gangway of the vessel, were about 
two feet across from side to side, while the space be- 
tween the sides of the others was gradually less in each 
fresh pair, according as their position was to be near to 
the stem and stern. When the whole of them had been 
forced into the proper shape, they were placed, one in- 
121 


TLbc 13 oung IDopaGCurs 


side the other after the manner of dishes, and then all 
were firmly lashed together, and left to dry. When 
the lashing should be removed, they would hold to the 
form thus given them, and would be ready for fastening 
to the keelson. 

While Norman was occupied with the timbers the 
others were not idle. Basil had cut down several of 
the largest and straightest birches, and Lucien em- 
ployed himself in carefully removing the bark and 
cleansing it of nodules and other inequalities. The 
broad sheets were suspended by a smoke fire, so as com- 
pletely to dry up the sap, and render it tough and elas- 
tic. Francois had his part to play, and that was to 
collect the resinous gum which was distilled in plenty 
from the trunks of the epinette or spruce-trees. This 
gum is a species of pitch, and is one of the most neces- 
sary materials in the making of a bark canoe. It is 
used for ‘ ‘ paying ’ ’ the seams, as well as any cracks 
that may show themselves in the bark itself ; and with- 
out it, or some similar substance, it would be difficult 
to make one of these little vessels water-tight. But that 
is not the only thing for which the epinette is valued 
in canoe-building ; far from it. This tree produces 
another indispensable material ; its long fibrous roots 
when split, form the twine-like threads by which the 
pieces of bark are sewed to each other and fastened 
to the timbers. These threads are as strong as the 
best cords of hemp, and are known among the Indians 


122 


1bow to JSiUlb a aSatft Canoe 


by the name of “ watap.” In a country, therefore, 
where hemp and flax cannot be readily procured, the 
‘ ‘ watap ” is of great value. You may say that deer are 
plenty, and that thongs of buckskin would serve the 
same purpose. This, however, is not the case. The 
buckskin would never do for such a use. The moment 
it becomes wet it is liable to stretch, so that the seams 
would open and the canoe get filled with water. The 
watap, wet or dry, does not yield, and has therefore 
been found to be the best thing of all "others for this 
purpose. 

The only parts now wanted were the gunwale and 
the bottom. The former was easily obtained. Two 
long poles, each twenty feet in length, were bent some- 
what like a pair of bows, and then placed with their 
concave sides toward each other, and firmly lashed 
together at the ends. This was the gunwale. The 
bottom was the most difficult part of all. For that a 
solid plank was required, and they had no saw. The 
axe and the hatchet, however, were called into requisi- 
tion, and a log was soon hewn and thinned down to the 
proper dimensions. It was sharpened off at the ends, 
so as to run to a very acute angle, both at the stem and 
stern. When the bottom was considered sufficiently 
polished, and modelled to the right shape, the most dif- 
ficult part of the undertaking was supposed to be accom- 
plished. A few long poles were cut and trimmed flat. 
These were to be laid longitudinally between the ribs 


123 


Ube 13oung IDopa^eurs 


and the bark, somewhat after the fashion of laths in the 
roofing of a house. Their use was to prevent the bark 
from splitting. The materials were now all obtained 
complete, and, with a few days’ smoking and drying, 
would be ready for putting together. 

While waiting for the timbers to dry, paddles were 
made, and Norman, with the help of the others, pre- 
pared what he jokingly called his “dock,” and also his 
“ship-yard.” This was neither more nor less than a 
long mound of earth — not unlike a new-made grave, 
only three times the length of one, or even longer. It 
was flat upon the top, and graded with earth so as to 
be quite level and free from inequalities. 

At length all the materials were considered quite 
ready for use, and Norman went to work to put them 
together. 

His first operation was to untie the bundle of timbers, 
and separate them. They were found to have taken 
the exact form into which they had been bent, and the 
thongs being no longer necessary to keep them in 
place, were removed. The timbers themselves were 
next placed upon the bottom or keelson, those with 
the widest bottoms being nearer to “midships,” while 
those with the narrower bend were set towards the 
narrower ends of the plank. Thus placed, they were 
all firmly lashed with strong cords of watap, by means 
of holes pierced in the bottom plank. Fortunately 
Tucien happened to have a pocket-knife, in which 


124 


1bow to Built) a Barft Canoe 


there was a good awl or piercer, that enabled them to 
make these holes — else the matter would have been a 
much more dijSicult one, as an awl is one of the most 
essential tools in the construction of a bark canoe. 
Of course it took Norman a considerable time to set all 
the ribs in their proper places, and fasten them securely ; 
but he was ably assisted by Franfois, who waited upon 
him with much diligence, handing him now the awl, 
and then the watap, whenever he required them. 

Norman’s next operation was the laying of his keelson 
“ in dock.” The timbers being attached to it, it was 
lifted up on the earthen mound, where it reached quite 
from end to end. Half a dozen large heavy stones 
were then placed upon it, so that, pressed down by 
these upon the surface of the mould, it was rendered 
quite firm ; and, moreover, was of such a height from 
the ground that the young shipwright could work upon 
it without too much bending and kneeling. 

The gunwale, already prepared, was next placed so 
as to touch the ends of the ribs all round, and these 
ends were adjusted to it with great nicety, and firmly 
joined. Strong cross-pieces were fixed, which were 
designed, not only to keep the gunwale from spreading 
or contracting, but afterwards to serve as seats. 

Of course the gunwale formed the complete mouth, 
or upper edge of the canoe. It was several feet longer 
than the bottom plank, and, when in place, projected 
beyond the ribs at both ends. From each end of the 
125 


Ubc l^ourtG IDopaaeuts 


bottom plank, therefore, to the corresponding end of 
the gunwale, a straight piece of wood was stretched 
and fastened. One of these pieces would become the 
stem or cutwater, while the other would become the 
stern of the craft. The long poles were next laid 
longitudinally upon the ribs outside, and lashed in 
their places ; and this done, the skeleton was completed, 
ready for the bark. 

The latter had been already cut to the proper dimen- 
sions and shape. It consisted of oblong pieces — each 
piece being a regular parallelogram, as it had been 
stripped from the tree. These were laid upon the ribs 
longitudinally, and then sewed to the edge of the bottom 
.plank, and also to the gunwale. The bark itself was in 
such broad pieces that two of them were sufficient to 
cover half a side, so that but one seam was required 
lengthwise, in addition to the fastenings at the top and 
bottom. Two lengths of the bark also reached cleverly 
from stem to stern, and thus required only one trans- 
verse seam on each side. There was an advantage in 
this arrangement, for where the birch -bark can only be 
obtained in small flakes, a great number of seams is a 
necessary consequence, and then it is extremely diffi- 
cult to keep the canoe from leaking. Thanks to the 
fine birch-trees, that grew in abundance around, our 
boat-builders had procured the very best bark. 

The canoe was now completed all but the “ paying,” 
and that would not take long to do. The gum of the 
126 


Ibow to Builb a JBarh Canoe 


dpinette had to be boiled, and mixed with a little grease, 
so as to form a species of wax. For this the fat already 
obtained from the buffaloes was the very thing ; and a 
small tin cup which Basil had saved from the wreck 
(it had been strung to his bullet pouch), enabled them 
to -melt the gum, and apply it hot. In less than an 
hour the thing was done. Every crack and awl-hole 
was payed, and the canoe was pronounced “water- 
tight,” and, as Francois added, with a • laugh, 
“ seaworthy.” 

A small pond was near, at the bottom of the hill : 
Frangois espied it. 

“ Come, boys,” cried he, “a launch ! a launch ! ” 

This was agreed to by all. The great stones were 
taken out. Basil and Norman, going one to the stem 
the other to the stern, lifted the canoe from the ‘ ‘ dock, ’ ’ 
and, raising it upon their shoulders, carried it down to 
the pond. The next moment it was pushed into the 
water, where it floated like a cork. A loud cheer was 
given, in which even Marengo joined ; and a salute 
was then fired — a full broadside — from the four guns. 
Frangois, to complete the thing, seized one of the pad- 
dles, and leaping into the canoe, shot the little craft 
out upon the bosom of the pond, cheering all the while 
like one frantic. After amusing himself for some min- 
utes, he paddled back to the shore, when they all 
looked eagerly into the canoe, and perceived to their 
gratification that not as much as a drop of water had 
127 


TLbc 13 ouna Do^aaeurs 


leaked during the “ trip.” Thanks and congratu- 
lations now greeted Norman from every side ; and, 
taking their vessel from the water, the young voyageurs 
returned to their camp, to regale themselves with a 
grand dinner, which Tucien had cooked for the 
occasion. 


128 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THK CHAIN OF I.AKFS. 

O UR young voyageurs now prepared to resume 
their journey. While Norman was engaged 
in building his canoe, with his assistant, Francois, 
the others had not been idle. Basil was, of course, 
the hunter of the party ; and, in addition to the small 
game, such as hares, geese, and grouse, he had killed 
three caribou, of the large variety known as “wood- 
land caribou.” These are a species of the reindeer 
{Cervus tarandus), of which I have more to say here- 
after. Eucien had attended to the drying of their 
flesh ; and there was enough of it still left, as our 
voyageurs believed, to supply their wants until they 
should reach Cumberland House, where they would, 
of course, procure a fresh stock of provisions. The 
skins of the caribou had also been scraped and dressed 
by Eucien — who understood the process well — and 
these, with the skin of the antelope, were sufficient to 
make a pair of hunting-shirts for Basil and Norman, 
who, it will be remembered, had lost theirs by cutting 
them up. 

9 


129 


Ube ^oixm ll>o\?aGeur$ 


Next morning the canoe was launched upon the 
river — below the rapids — and the dried meat, with 
their other matters, snugly stowed in the stern. Then 
the young voyageurs got in, and, seating themselves 
in their places, seized hold of the paddles. The next 
moment the canoe shot out into the stream ; and a 
triumphant cheer from the crew announced that they 
had recommenced their journey. They found to their 
delight that the little vessel behaved admirably, — 
shooting through the water like an arrow, and leaking 
not water enough, as Francois expressed it, “ to drown 
a mosquito.v^ They had all taken their seats in the 
order which had been agreed upon for the day. Nor- 
man was “ bowsman,” and, of course, sat in the bow. 
This, among the regular Canadian voyageurs, is 
esteemed the post of honour, and the bowsman is 
usually styled “Captain” by the rest of the crew. 
It is also the post that requires the greatest amount of 
skill on the part of its occupant, particularly where 
there are rapids or shoals to be avoided. The post of 
‘ ‘ steersman ’ ’ is also one of honour and importance ; 
and both steersman and bowsman receive higher wages 
than the other voyageurs, who pass under the name 
of “middlemen.” The steersman sits in the stern, 
and that place was now occupied by Lucien, who had 
proved himself an excellent steersman. Basil and 
Frangois were, of course, the “middlemen,” and plied 
the paddles. This was the arrangement made for the 


130 


XTbe Cbain ot Xabcs 


day ; but although on other days the programme was 
to be changed, so as to relieve Basil and Francois, on 
all occasions when there were rapids or other difficul- 
ties to be encountered they were to return to this order. 
Norman, of course, understood canoe navigation better 
than his Southern cousins ; and therefore, by universal 
assent, he was acknowledged “the Captain,” and 
Francois always addressed him as such. Lucien’s 
claim to the post of second Honour was admitted to be 
just, as he had proved himself capable of filling it to 
the satisfaction of all. Marengo had no post, but lay 
quietly upon the buffalo skin betweea^Fucien’s legs, 
and listened to the .conversation without joining in it, 
or in any way interfering in the working of the vessel. 

In a few hours our voyageurs had passed through 
the low marshy country that lies around the mouth 
of the Red River, and the white expanse of the great 
Fake Winnipeg opened before them, stretching north- 
ward far beyond the range of their vision. Norman 
knew the lake, having crossed it before, but its aspect 
somewhat disappointed the Southern travellers. In- 
stead of a vast dark lake which they had expected to 
see, they looked upon a whitish muddy sheet, that 
presented but few attractive points to the eye, either in 
the hue of its water or the scenery of its shores. These, 
so far as they could see them, were low, and apparently 
marsh}^ ; and this is, in fact, the character of the south- 
ern shores of Winnipeg. On its east and north, how- 


XTbe l^ouna Dopaaeurs 


ever, the country is of a different character. There the 
geological formation is what is termed primitive. The 
rocks consist of granite, sienite, gneiss, &c. ; and, as is 
always the case where such rocks are found, the coun- 
try is hilly and rugged. On the western shores a 
secondary formation exists. This is stratified lime- 
stone , — the same as that which forms the bed of many 
of the great prairies of America ; and, indeed, the Lake 
Winnipeg lies between this secondary formation and 
the primitive, which bounds it on the east. Along its 
western shores extends the flat limestone country, 
partly wooded and partly prairie land, running from 
that point for hundreds of miles up to the very foot of 
the Rocky Mountains, where the primitive rocks again 
make their appearance in the rugged peaks of that 
stupendous chain. Lake Winnipeg is nearly three 
hundred miles in length, but it is very narrow — being 
in its widest reach not over fifty miles, and in many 
places only fifteen miles from .shore to shore. It trends 
nearly d€e north and south, leaning a little north-west 
and south-east, and receives many large rivers, as the 
Red, the Saskatchewan, and the Winnipeg. The 
waters of these are again carried out of it by other 
rivers that run from the lake and empty into the 
Hudson’s Bay. There is a belief among the hunters 
and voyageurs that this lake has its tides like the 
ocean. Such, however, is not the case. There is at 
times a rise and overflow of its waters, but it is not 


132 


Ube dbain of 


periodical, and is supposed to be occasioned by strong 
winds forcing the waters towards a particular shore. 

I^ake Winnipeg is remarkable, as being in the very 
centre of the North American continent, and may be 
called the centre of the canoe navigatio7i. From this 
point it is possible to travel by water to Hudson’s Bay 
on the north-east, to the Atlantic Ocean on the east, 
to the Gulf of Mexico on the south, to the Pacific on 
the west, and to the Polar Sea on the north and north- 
west. Considering that some of these distances are up- 
wards of three thousand miles, it will be perceived that 
Lake Winnipeg holds a singular position upon the con- 
tinent. All the routes mentioned can be made without 
any great ‘ ‘ portage, ’ ’ and even a choice of route is 
often to be had upon those different lines of com- 
munication. 

These were points of information communicated by 
Norman as the canoe was paddled along the shore ; 
for Norman, although troubling himself but little 
about the causes of things, possessed a good practical 
knowledge of things as they actually were. He was 
tolerably well acquainted with the routes, their port- 
ages, and distances. Some of them he had travelled 
over in company with his father, and of others he had 
heard the accounts given by the voyageurs, traders, 
and trappers. Norman knew that Lake Winnipeg 
was muddy, — he did not care to inquire the cause. 
He knew that there was a hilly country on its eastern 


133 


Ubc Iffouna IDoyaaeurs 


and a low level land on its western shores, but it never 
occurred to him to speculate on this geological differ- 
ence. It was the naturalist Lucien who threw out 
some hints on this part of the subject, and further 
added his opinion, that the lake came to be there in 
consequence of the wearing away of the rocks at the 
junction of the stratified with the primitive formation, 
thus creating an excavation in the surface, which in 
time became filled with water and formed the lake. 
This cause he also assigned for the existence of a re- 
markable “ chain of lakes ” that extends almost from 
the Arctic Sea to the frontiers of Canada. The most 
noted of these are Martin, Great Slave, Athabasca, 
Wollaston, Deer, Lake Winnipeg, and the Lake of the 
Woods. Lucien further informed his companions, 
that where primitive rocks form the surface of a coun- 
try, that surface will be found to exhibit great diver- 
sity of aspect. There will be numerous lakes and 
swamps, rugged steep hills with deep valleys between, 
short streams with many falls and rapids. These are 
the characteristics of a primitive surface. On the 
other hand, where secondary rocks prevail the surface 
is usually a series of plains, often high, dry, and tree- 
less, as is the case upon the great American prairies. 

Upon such topics did Lucien instruct his compan- 
ions, as they paddled their canoe around the edge of 
the lake. They had turned the head of their little 
vessel westward — as it was their design to keep along 
134 


XTbe Cbain ot Xabes 


the western border of the lake until they should reach 
the mouth of the Saskatchewan. They kept at a short 
distance from the shore, usually steering from point to 
point, and in this way making their route as direct as 
possible. It would have been still more direct had they 
struck out into the open lake, and kept up its middle ; 
but this would have been a dangerous course to pur- 
sue. There are often high winds upon Take Winni- 
peg, that spring up suddenly ; and at such times the 
waves, if not mountains high, at least arrive at the 
height of houses. Among such billows the little craft 
would have been in danger of being swamped, and our 
voyageurs of going to the bottom. They, therefore, 
wisely resolved not to risk such an accident, but to 
“ hug the shore,” though it made their voyage longer. 
Each night they would land at some convenient place, 
kindle their fire, cook their supper, and dry their canoe 
for the next day’s journey. 

According to this arrangement, a little before sunset 
of the first day they came to land and made their camp. 
The canoe was unloaded, carefully lifted out of the 
water, and then set bottom upward to drip and dry. 
A fire was kindled, some of the dry meat cooked, and 
all four sat down and began to eat, as only hungry 
travellers can. 


135 


CHAPTER XIV. 


WAPITI, WOIvVKS, AND WODVKRKNK. 

HE spot where our voyageurs had landed was at 



the bottom of a small bay. The country back 


from the lake was level and clear of timber. Here and 
there, nearer 'the shore, however, its surface was 
prettily interspersed with small clumps of willows, 
that formed little copse-like thickets of deep green. 
Beside one of these thickets, within a hundred yards 
of the beach, the fire had been kindled, on a spot of 
ground that commanded a view of the plain for miles 


back. 


“ Took yonder ! ” cried Frangois, who had finished 
eating, and risen to his feet. “What are these, cap- 
tain?” Frangois pointed to some objects that ap- 
peared at a great distance off upon the plain. 

The “captain” rose up, placed his hand so as to 
shade his eyes from the sun, and, after looking for a 
second or two in the direction indicated, replied to the 
other’s question by simply saying, — 

“ Wapiti.” 

“I’m no wiser than before I asked the question,” 


136 


Mapftt, Molves, anb Wolverene 


said Fraiifois. “ Pray, enlighten me as to what a 
wapiti may be ! ” 

“ Why, red deer ; or elk, if you like.” 

“ Oh ! elk — now I understand you. I thought they 
were elk, but they ’re so far off I was n’t sure.” 

Lucien at this moment rose up, and looking through 
a small telescope, which he carried, confirmed the 
statement of the “captain,” and pronounced it to be 
a herd of elk. 

“Come, Luce,” demanded Francois, “tell us what 
you know of the elk. It will pass the time. Norman 
says it ’s no use going after them out there in the open 
ground, as they’d shy off before one could get within 
shot. You see there is not a bush within half a mile 
of them.” 

“If we wait,” interrupted Norman, “I should not 
wonder but we may have them among the bushes be- 
fore long. They appear to be grazing this way. I 
warrant you, they ’ll come to the lake to drink before 
nightfall.” 

“ Very well then : the philosopher can tell us all 
about them before that.” 

Lucien, thus appealed to, began : — 

“ There are few animals that have so many names 
as this. It is called in different districts, or by dif- 
ferent authors, elk^ round-horned elk^ American elk^ 
stag, red deer, grey moose, le hiche, wapiti, and wewas- 
kish. Naturalists have given not a few of their desig- 
137 


Zbe loung IDogageucs 


nations, as Cervus Canadensis, C. major, C. alces, 
C. strongylocerus, etc. 

“You may ask, Why so many names? I shall tell 
you. It is called ‘ elk ’ because it was supposed by the 
early colonists to be the same as the elk of Europe. 
Its name of ‘ grey moose ’ is a hunter appellation, to 
distinguish it from the real moose, which the same 
hunters know as the ‘ black moose.’ ‘ Round-horned 
elk’ is also a hunter name. ‘Wewaskish,’ or ‘ was- 
kesse,’ is an Indian name for the animal. ‘Stag’ 
comes from the European deer so called, because this 
species somewhat resembles the stag ; and ‘ red deer ’ 
is a name used by the Hudson Bay traders. ‘ Ee 
biche ’ is another synonym of French authors. 

“ Of all these names I think that of ‘ wapiti,’ which 
our cousin has given, the best. The names of ‘ elk,’ 

‘ stag,’ and ‘ red deer,’ lead to confusion, as there are 
other species to which they properly belong, all of 
which are entirely different from the wapiti. I believe 
that this last name is now used by the best-informed 
naturalists. 

“In my opinion,” continued Eucien, “the wapiti 
is the noblest of all the deer kind. It possesses the 
fine form of the European stag, while it is nearly a 
third larger and stronger. It has all the grace of limb 
and motion that belongs to the common deer, while 
its towering horns give it a most majestic and imposing 
appearance. Its colour during the summer is of a 


Mapiti, Molves, an^ Molperene 


reddish brown, hence the name red deer ; but, indeed, 
the reddish tint upon the wapiti is deeper and richer 
than that of its European cousin. The wapiti, like 
other deer, brings forth its fawns in the spring. They 
are usually a male and female, for two is the number 
it produces. The males only have horns ; and they 
must be several years old before the antlers become 
full and branching. They fall every year, but not 
until February or March, and then the new ones grow 
out in a month or six weeks. During the summer the 
horns remain soft and tender to the touch. They are 
covered at this time with a soft membrane that looks 
like greyish velvet, and they are then said to be ‘ in 
the velvet. ’ There are nerves and blood-vessels run- 
ning through this membrane, and a blow upon the 
horns at this season gives great pain to the animal. 
When the autumn arrives the velvet peels off, and they 
become as hard as bone. They would need to be, for 
this is the ‘ rutting ’ season, and the bucks fight furious 
battles with each other, clashing their horns together, 
as if they would break them to pieces. Very often a 
pair of bucks, while thus contending, ‘ lock ’ their 
antlers, and being unable to draw them apart, remain 
head to head, until both die with hunger, or fall a prey 
to the prowling wolves. This is true not only of the 
elk, but also of the rein-deer, the moose, and many 
other species of deer. Hundreds of pairs of horns 
have been found thus ‘locked,’ and the solitary hunter 


139 


tibe ISouna tDoi^a^eurs 


has often surprised the deer in this unpleasant pre- 
dicament. 

‘ ‘ The wapiti utters a whistling sound, that can be 
heard far off, and often guides the hunter to the right 
spot. In the rutting season the bucks make other 
noises, which somewhat resemble the braying of an ass, 
and are equally disagreeable to listen to. 

“The wapiti travel about in small herds, rarely 
exceeding fifty, but often of only six or seven. Where 
they are not much hunted they are easily approached, 
but otherwise they are shy enough. The bucks, when 
wounded and brought to bay, become dangerous assail- 
ants ; much more so than those of the common deer. 
Hunters have sometimes escaped with difficulty from 
their horns and hoofs, with the latter of which they 
can inflict very severe blows. They are hunted in the 
same way as other deer ; but the Indians capture 
many of them in the water, when they discover them 
crossing lakes or rivers. They are excellent swim- 
mers, and can make their way over the arm of a lake 
or across the widest river. 

“ They feed upon grass, and sometimes on the young 
shoots of willows and poplar trees. They are espe- 
cially fond of a species of wild rose {Rosa blandd)^ 
which grows in the countries they frequent. 

“The wapiti at one time ranged over a large part of 
the continent of North America. Its range is now 
restricted by the spread of the .settlements. It is still 
140 


Mapiti, Molves, an^ Molverene 


found in most of the Northern parts of the United 
States, but only in remote mountainous districts, and 
even there it is a rare animal. In Canada it is more 
common ; and it roams across the continent to the 
shores of the Pacific. It is not an animal of the tropi- 
cal countries, as it is not found in Mexico proper. On 
the other hand, wapiti do not go farther north than 
about the fifty-seventh parallel of latitude, and then 
they are not in their favourite habitat, which is properly 
the temperate zone.” 

lyucien was interrupted by an exclamation from 
Basil, who stood up looking out upon the prairie. 
They all saw that he had been observing the wapiti. 

“ What is it ? ” cried they. 

“Took yonder!” replied Basil, pointing in the 
direction of the herd. “Something disturbs them. 
Give me your glass, Uuce.” 

Lucien handed the telescope to his brother, who, 
drawing it to the proper focus, pointed it towards the 
deer. The rest watched them with the naked eye. 
They could see that there was some trouble among the 
animals. There were only six in the herd, and even 
at the distance our voyageurs could tell that they were 
all bucks, for it was the season when the does secrete 
themselves in the woods and thickets to bring forth 
their young. They were running to and fro upon the 
prairie, and doubling about as if playing, or rather as 
if some creature was chasing them. With the naked 
141 


Ube ^oxxm IDo^ageurs 


eye, however, nothing could be seen upon the ground 
but the bucks themselves, and all the others looked to 
Basil, who held the glass, for an explanation of their 
odd manoeuvres. 

“There are wolves at them,” said Basil, after re- 
garding them for a second or two. 

“That’s odd,” rejoined Norman. “Wolves don’t 
often attack full-grown wapiti, except when wounded 
or crippled somehow. They must be precious hungry. 
What sort of wolves are they ? ’ ’ 

To you, boy reader, this question may seem strange. 
You, perhaps, think that a wolf is a wolf, and there is 
but one kind. Such, however, is not the exact truth. 
In America there are two distinct species of wolves, 
and of these two species there are many varieties, which 
differ so much in colour and other respects, that some 
authors have classed them as so many distinct species 
instead of considering them mere varieties. Whether 
they may be species or not is still a question among 
naturalists ; but certain it is that iwo well-defined 
species do exist, which differ in size, form, colour, and 
habits. These are the large or common wolf {Canis 
lupus), and the barking or prairie wolf {Canis latrans). 

The first species is the American representative of 
the common wolf of Europe ; and although an animal 
of similar nature and habits, it differs very much from 
the latter in form and appearance. It is, therefore, 
not the same, as hitherto supposed. This American 
142 


Mapiti, Molpcs, anb Molverene 


wolf is found in greater or less numbers throughout 
the whole continent ; but in the Northern regions it is 
very common, and is seen in at least five different 
varieties, known by the characteristic names of black, 
pied, white, dusky, and grey wolves. Of these the grey 
is the most numerous kind ; but as I shall have occa- 
sion to speak of the large wolves hereafter, I shall say 
no more of them at present, but direct your attention 
to the second and very different species, the prairie 
wolves. 

These are a full third smaller than the common 
kind. They are swifter, and go in larger packs. 
They bring forth their young in burrows on the open 
plain, and not among the woods, like the other species. 
They are the most cunning of American animals, not 
excepting their kindred the foxes. They cannot be 
trapped by any contrivance, but by singular manoeu- 
vres often themselves decoy the over-curious ante- 
lope to approach too near them. When a gun is fired 
upon the prairies they may be seen starting up on all 
sides, and running for the spot in hopes of coming in 
for a share of the game. Should an animal— deer, 
antelope, or buffalo— be wounded, and escape the 
hunter, it is not likely to escape them also. They will 
set after it, and run it down if the wound has been a 
mortal one. On the other hand, if the wound has been 
only slight, and is not likely in the end to cripple the 
animal, the wolves will not stir from the spot. This 
143 


TLbc l^ouna IDoi^aoeurs 


extraordinary sagacity often tells the hunter whether 
it is worth his while to follow the game he has shot at ; 
but in any case he is likely to arrive late, if the wolves 
set out before him, as a dozen of them will devour the 
largest deer in a few minutes’ time. The prairie 
wolves as well as the others follow the herds of buf- 
faloes, and attack the gravid cows and calves when 
separated from the rest. Frequently they sustain a 
contest with the bulls, when the latter are old or 
wounded, but on such occasions many of them get 
killed before the old bull becomes their prey. 

They resemble the common grey wolf in colour, but 
there are varieties in this respect, though not so great 
as among the larger species. Their voice is entirely 
different, and consists of three distinct barks, ending 
in a prolonged howl. Hence the specific and usual 
name “ barking- wolf ” {C. latrans). They are found 
only in the Western or prairie half of the continent, 
and thence west to the Pacific. Their Northern range 
is limited to the fifty-fifth parallel of latitude — but they 
are met with southward throughout Mexico, where 
they are common enough, and known by the name of 
“ coyote.” 

Their skins are an article of trade with the Hud- 
son’s Bay Company. The fur is of about the same 
quality with that of other wolves, and consists of long 
hairs, with a thick wool at the base. In commerce 
they are termed “cased wolves,” because their skins, 


144 


MapUi, Molves, ant) Molnerene 


on being removed, are not split open as with the large 
wolf-skins, but are stript off after the manner of rab- 
bits, and then turned inside out, or “cased,” as it is 
termed. 

So much for the Canis latrans. 

‘ ‘ Prairie wolves ! ’ ’ said Basil, in answer to the 
question put by his cousin. 

“ There must be something the matter with one of 
the bucks, then,” remarked Norman, “ or else there ’s 
a good big pack of the wolves, and they expect to tire 
one down. I believe they sometimes do try it that 
way.” 

“ There appears to be a large pack,” answered Basil, 
still looking through the glass; “fifty at least — See! 
they have separated one of the bucks from the herd — 
it ’s running this way I ” 

Basil’s companions had noticed this as soon as him- 
self, and all four now leaped to their guns. The wapiti 
was plainly coming towards them, and they could now 
distinguish the wolves following upon his heels, strung 
out over the prairie like a pack of hounds. When 
first started, the buck was a full half-mile distant, but 
in less than a minute’s time he came breasting forward 
until the boys could see his sparkling eyes and the play 
of his proud flanks. He was a noble animal to look at. 
His horns were full grown, but still “in the velvet,” 
and as he ran with his snout thrown forward, his 
antlers lay along both sides of his neck until their tips 


XTbe 13oung IDoi^aaeurs 


touched his shoulders. He continued on in a direct 
line until he was within less than a hundred paces of 
the camp ; but, perceiving the smoke of the fire, and 
the figures crouching around it, he swerved suddenly 
from his course, and darted into the thicket of willows, 
where he was for the moment hidden from view. The 
wolves — fifty of them at least — had followed him up to 
this point ; and as he entered the thicket several had 
been close upon his heels. The boys expected to see 
the wolves rush in after him — as there appeared to be 
no impediment to their doing so — biit, to the astonish- 
ment of all, the latter came to a sudden halt, and then 
went sneaking back — some of them even running off 
as if terrified ! At first the hunters attributed this 
strange conduct to their own presence, and the smoke 
of the camp ; but a moment’s reflection convinced 
them that this could not be the reason of it, as they 
were all well acquainted with the nature of the prairie 
wolf, and had never witnessed a similar exhibition 
before. 

They had no time to think of the wolves just then. 
The buck was the main attraction, and, calling to each 
other to surround the thicket, all four started in differ- 
ent directions. In a couple of minutes they had placed 
themselves at nearly equal distances around the copse, 
and stood watching eagerly for the reappearance of the 
wapiti. 

The willows covered about an acre of ground, but 
146 


Mapiti, Moires, an^ Molrerene 


they were tolerably thick and full-leaved, and the buck 
could not be seen from any side. Wherever he was, 
he was evidently at a stand-still, for not a rustle could 
be heard among the leaves, nor were any of the tall 
stalks seen to move. 

Marengo was now sent in. This would soon start 
him, and all four stood with guns cocked and ready. 
But before the dog had made three lengths of himself 
into the thicket, a loud snort was heard, followed by a 
struggle and the stamping of hoofs, and the next mo- 
ment the wapiti came crashing through the bushes. 
A shot was fired — it was the crack of Lucien’s small 
rifle — but it had missed, for the buck was seen passing 
onward and outward. All ran round to the side he had 
taken, and had a full view of the animal as he bounded 
off. Instead of running free as before, he now leaped 
heavily forward, and what was their astonishment on 
seeing that he carried another animal upon his back ! 

The hunters could hardly believe their eyes, but 
there it was sure enough, a brown shaggy mass, lying 
flat along the shoulders of the wapiti, and clutching 
it with large spreading claws. Francois cried out, ‘ ‘ A 
panther ! ’ ’ and Basil at first believed it to be a bear, 
but it was hardly large enough for that. Norman, 
however, who had lived more in those parts where the 
animal is found, knew it at once to be the dreaded 
“ wolverene.” Its head could not be seen, as that was 
hid behind the shoulder of the wapiti, whose throat it 
147 


Ube ISoung IDopageurs 


was engaged in tearing. But its short legs and broad 
paws, its bushy tail and long shaggy hair, together 
with its round-arching back and dark-brown colour, 
were all familiar marks to the young fur-trader ; and 
he at once pronounced it a “ wolverene.” 

When first seen, both it and the wapiti were beyond 
the reach of their rifles ; and the hunters, surprised by 
such an unexpected apparition, had suddenly halted. 
Frangois and Basil were about to renew the pursuit, 
but were prevented by Norman who counselled them 
to remain where they were. 

“ They won’t go far,” said he ; “ let us watch them 
a bit. See ! the buck takes the water ! ” 

The wapiti, on leaving the willows, had run straight 
out in the first direction that offered, which happened 
to be in a line parallel with the edge of the lake. His 
eye, however, soon caught sight of the water, and, 
doubling suddenly round, he made directly towards it, 
evidently with the intention of plunging in. He had 
hopes, no doubt, that by this means he might rid him- 
self of the terrible creature that was clinging to his 
shoulders, and tearing his throat to pieces. 

A few bounds brought him to the shore. There 
was no beach at the spot. The bank — a limestone 
bluff— rose steeply from the water’s edge to a height of 
eight feet, and the lake under it was several fathoms in 
depth. The buck did not hesitate, but sprang outward 
and downwards. A heavy plash followed, and for 
148 



THE WAPITI AND THE WOLVERENE, 





Mapiti, Molves, anb Molverene 


some seconds both wapiti and wolverene were lost un- 
der the water. They rose to the surface, just as the 
boys reached the bank, but they came up separately. 
The dip had proved a cooler to the fierce wolverene ; 
and while the wapiti was seen to strike boldly out into 
the lake and swim off, the latter — evidently out of his 
element — kept plunging about clumsily, and struggling 
to get back to the shore. Their position upon the cliff 
above gave the hunters an excellent opportunity with 
their rifles, and both Basil and Norman sent their bul- 
lets into the wolverene’s back. Francois also emptied 
his double-barrelled gun at the same object, and the 
shaggy brute sank dead to the bottom of the lake. 
Strange to say, not one of the party had thought of firing 
at the buck. This persecution by so many enemies had 
won for him their S5^mpathy, and they would now have 
suffered him to go free, but the prospect of fresh veni- 
son for supper overcame their commiseration, and the 
moment the wolverene was despatched all set about 
securing the deer. Their guns were reloaded, and, 
scattering along the shore, they prepared to await his 
return. But the buck, seeing there was nothing but 
death in his rear, swam on, keeping almost in a direct 
line out into the lake. It was evident to all that he 
could not swim across the lake, as its farther shore was 
not even visible. He must either return to where they 
were, or drown ; and knowing this to be his only al- 
ternative, they stood still and watched his motions. 

149 


Ubc Iffoung IDoi^aaeurs 


When he had got about half a mile from the shore, to 
the surprise of all, he was seen to rise higher and higher 
above the surface, and then all at once stop, with half 
of his body clear out of the water ! He had come upon 
a shoal, and, knowing the advantage of it, seemed 
determined to remain there. 

Basil and Norman ran to the canoe, and in a few 
minutes the little craft was launched, and shooting 
through the water. The buck now saw that it was 
likely to be all up with him, and, instead of attempting 
to swim farther, he faced round and set his antlers for- 
ward in a threatening attitude. But his pursuers did 
not give him the chance to make a rush. When within 
fifty yards or so, Norman, who used the paddles, 
stopped and steadied the canoe, and the next moment 
the crack of Basil’s rifle echoed over the lake, and the 
‘wapiti fell upon the water, where, after struggling a 
moment, he lay dead. 

‘ The canoe was paddled up, and his antlers being 
made fast to the stern, he was towed back to the shore, 
and carried into camp. What now surprised our voy- 
ageurs was, their finding that the wapiti had been 
wounded before encountering either the wolves, wol- 
verene, or themselves. An arrow-head, with a short 
piece of the shaft, was sticking in one of his thighs. 
The Indians, then, had been after him, and very lately 
too, as the wound showed. It was not a mortal wound, 
had the arrow-head been removed ; but of course, as it 
150 


Mapiti, Molves, ant) Molverene 


was, it would have proved his death in the long run. 
This explained why the wolves had assailed an animal, 
that otherwise, from his great size and strength, would 
have defied them. The wolverene, moreover, rarely 
attacks game so large as the wapiti ; but the latter had, 
no doubt, chanced upon the lair of his fierce enemy, 
who could not resist such a tempting opportunity of 
getting a meal. The wolves had seen the wolverene as 
they approached the thicket, and that accounted for 
their strange behaviour in the pursuit. These crea- 
tures are as great cowards as they are tyrants, and their 
dread of a wolverene is equal to that with which they 
themselves often inspire the wounded deer. 


CHAPTER XV. 


A PAIR OF DKKP divers. 

HE wapiti was carefully skinned, and the skin 



spread out to dry. Since their mishap our 


voyageurs had been very short of clothing. The three 
skins of the woodland caribou had made only a pair of 
jackets, instead of full hunting-shirts, and even these 
were pinched fits. For beds and bed-clothes they had 
nothing but the hides of buffaloes, and these, although 
good as far as they went, were only enough for two. 
Lucien, the most delicate of the party, appropriated 
one, as the others insisted upon his so doing. Fran- 
cois had the other. As for Basil and Norman, they 
were forced each night to lie upon the naked earth, and 
but for the large fires which they kept blazing all the 
night, they would have suffered severely from cold. 
Indeed, they did suffer quite enough ; for some of the 
nights were so cold, that it was impossible to sleep by 
the largest fire without one-half of their bodies feeling 
chilled. The usual practice with travellers in the Far 
West is to lie with their feet to the fire, while the head 
is at the greatest distance from it. This is considered 


152 


H pair of Beep Divers 


the best mode, for so long as the feet are warm, the rest 
of the body will not suffer badly ; but, on the contrary, 
if the feet are allowed to get cold, no matter what state 
the other parts be in, it is impossible to sleep with com- 
fort. Of course our young voyageurs followed the 
well-known practice of the country, and lay with their 
feet to the fire in such a manner that, when all were 
placed, their bodies formed four radii of a circle, of 
which the fire was the centre. Marengo usually lay 
beside Basil, whom he looked upon as his proper mas- 
ter. 

Notwithstanding a bed of grass and leaves which 
they each night spread for themselves, they were sadly 
in want of blankets, and therefore the skin of the 
wapiti, which was a very fine one, would be a welcome 
addition to their stock of bedding. They resolved, 
therefore, to remain one day where they had killed it, 
so that the skin might be dried and receive a partial 
dressing. Moreover, they intended to “jerk” some 
of the meat — although elk-venison is not considered 
very palatable where other meat can be had. It is 
without juice, and resembles dry short-grained beef 
more than venison. For this reason it is looked upon 
by both Indians and white hunters as inferior to buf- 
falo, moose, caribou, or even the common deer. One 
peculiarity of the flesh of this animal is, that the fat 
becomes hard the moment it is taken off the fire. It 
freezes upon the lips like suet, and clings around the 
153 


Zbc Igoun^ IDo^aoeurs 


teeth of a person eating it, which is not the, case with 
that of other species of deer. The skin of the wapiti, 
however, is held in high esteem among the Indians. It 
is thinner than that of the moose, but makes a much 
better article of leather. When dressed in the Indian 
fashion — that is to say, soaked in a lather composed of 
the brains and fat of the animal itself, and then washed, 
dried, scraped, and smoked — it becomes as soft and 
pliable as a kid-glove, and will wash and dry without 
stiffening like chamois leather. That is a great ad- 
vantage which it has, in the eyes of the Indians, over 
the skins of other species of deer, as the moose and 
caribou — for the leather made from these, after a wet- 
ting, becomes harsh and rigid and requires a great deal 
of rubbing to render it soft again. 

Lucien knew how to dress the elk-hide, and could 
make leather out of it as well as any Indian squaw in 
the country. But travelling as they were, there was 
not a good opportunity for that ; so they were content 
to give it such a dressing as the circumstances might 
allow. It was spread out on a frame of willow-poles, 
and set up in front of the fire, to be scraped at intervals, 
and cleared of the fatty matter, as well as the numer- 
ous parasites that at this season adhere to the skins of 
the wapiti. 

While Tucien was framing the skin, Basil and Nor- 
man occupied themselves in cutting the choice pieces 
of the meat into thin slices and hanging them up 
154 


a pate of Deep Dtveca 


before the fire. This job being finished, all sat down 
to watch Ivucien currying his hide. 

“Ho, boys!” cried Francois, starting up as if 
something had occurred to him; “what about the 
wolverene? It’s a splendid skin— why not get it 
too?” 

“True enough,” replied Norman, “we had for- 
gotten that. But the beast ’s gone to the bottom — 
how can we get at him? ” 

“Why, fish him up, to be sure,” said Francois. 
“ Let ’s splice one of these willow-poles to my ramrod, 
and I ’ll screw it into him, and draw him to the surface 
in a jiffy. Come!” 

“We must get the canoe round, then,” said Nor- 
man. “The bank’s too steep for us to reach him 
without it. ” 

“Of course,” assented Francois, at the same time 
going towards the willows ; ‘ ‘ get you the canoe into 
the water, while I cut the sapling. ’ ’ 

“Stay!” cried Basil, “I’ll show you a shorter 
method. Marengo ! ” 

As Basil said this, he rose to his feet, and walked 
down to the bluff where they had shot the wolverene. 
All of them followed him as well as Marengo, who 
bounded triumphantly from side to side, knowing he 
was wanted for some important enterprise. 

‘ ‘ Do you expect the dog to fetch him out ? ” in- 
quired Norman. 


155 


Xlbe ^onm IDopaaeurs 


“No,” replied Basil ; “ only to help.” 

“How?” 

“ Wait a moment — you shall see.” 

Basil flung down his ’coon-skin cap, and stripped 
off his caribou jacket, then his striped cotton shirt, 
then his under shirt of fawn skin, and lastly, his 
trousers, leggings, and moccasins. He was now as 
naked as Adam. 

“ I ’ll show you, cousin, ’ said he, addressing him- 
self to Norman, “ how we take the water down there 
on the Mississippi.” 

So saying, he stepped forward to the edge of the 
bluff ; and having carefully noted the spot where the 
wolverene had gone down, turned to the dog, and 
simply said, — 

“ Ho ! Marengo ! Cke2 moi ! ” 

The dog answered with a whimper, and a look of 
intelligence which showed that he understood his 
master’s wish. 

Basil again pointed to the lake, raised his arms over 
his head, placing his palms close together, launched 
himself out into the air, and shot down head-foremost 
into the water. 

Marengo, uttering a loud bay, sprang after so 
quickly that the plunges were almost simultaneous, 
and both master and dog were for some tini« hidden 
from view. The latter rose first, but it was a long 
time before Basil came to the surface — so long that 
156 


H pair of Deep Dipers 


Norman and the others were beginning to feel uneasy, 
and to regard the water with some anxiety. At length, 
however, a spot was seen to bubble, several yards from 
where he had gone down, and the black head of Basil 
appeared above the surface. It was seen that he held 
something in his teeth, and was pushing a heavy body 
before him, which they saw was the wolverene. 

Marengo, who swam near, now seized hold of the 
object, and pulled it away from his master, who, call- 
ing to the dog to follow, struck out towards a point 
where the bank was low and shelving. In a few min- 
utes Basil reached a landing-place, and shortly after 
Marengo arrived towing the wolverene, which was 
speedily pulled out upon the bank, and carried, or 
rather dragged, by Norman and Francois to the camp. 
Lucien brought Basil’s clothes, and all four once more 
assembled around the blazing fire. 

There is not a more hideous-looking animal in 
America than the wolverene. His thick body and 
short stout legs, his shaggy coat and bushy tail, but, 
above all, his long curving claws and dog-like jaws, 
give him a formidable appearance. His gait is slow 
and skulking, and his look bold and vicious. He 
walks somewhat like a bear and his tracks are often 
mistaken for those of that animal. Indians and hunt- 
ers, however, know the difference well. His hind feet 
are plantigrade, that is, they rest upon the ground 
from heel to toe ; and his back curves like the segment 
157 


Ube 19 oung Do^aGCVirs 


of a circle. He is fierce and extremely voracious — 
quite as much so as the “ glutton,” of which he is the 
American representative. No animal is more destruc- 
tive to the small game, and he will also attack and 
devour the larger kinds when he can get hold of them ; 
but as he is somewhat slow, he can only seize most of 
them by stratagem. It is a common belief that he lies 
in wait upon trees and rocks to seize the deer passing 
beneath. It has been also asserted that he places moss, 
such as these animals feed upon, under his perch, in 
order to entice them within reach ; and it has been still 
further asserted, that the arctic foxes assist him in his 
plans, by hunting the deer towards the spot where he 
lies in wait, thus acting as his jackals. These asser- 
tions have been made more particularly about his Euro- 
pean cousin, the ” glutton,” about whom other stories 
are told equally strange — one of them, that he eats until 
scarce able to walk, and then draws his body through 
a narrow space between two trees, in order to relieve 
himself and get ready for a fresh meal. Buffon and 
others have given credence to these tales upon the 
authority of one “Olaus Magnus,” whose name, from 
the circumstance, might be translated “great fibber.” 
There is no doubt, however, that the glutton is one of 
the most sagacious of animals, and so, too, is the wol- 
verene. The latter gives proof of this by many of his 
habits ; one in particular fully illustrates his cunning. 
It is this. The marten trappers of the Hudson Bay 
158 


H pair of Deep Divers 


territory set their traps in the snow, often extending 
over a line of fifty miles. These traps are constructed 
out of pieces of wood found near the spot, and are 
baited with the heads of partridges, or pieces of veni- 
sion, of which the marten {Mustela martes) is very fond. 
As soon as the marten seizes the bait, a trigger is 
touched, and a heavy piece of wood falling upon the 
animal, crushes or holds it fast. Now the wolverene 
enters the trap from behind^ tears the back out of it 
before touching the bait, and thus avoids the falling 
log ! Moreover, he will follow the tracks of the trapper 
from one to another, until he has destroyed the whole 
line. Should a marten happen to have been before 
him, and got caught in the trap, he rarely ever eats it, 
as he is not fond of its flesh. But he is not satisfied to 
leave it as he finds it. He usually digs it from under 
the log, tears it to pieces, and then buries it under the 
snow. The foxes who are well aware of this habit, 
and who themselves greedily eat the marten, are fre- 
quently seen following him upon such excursions. 
They are not strong enough to take the log from off 
the trapped animal, but from their keen scent can soon 
find it where the other has buried it in the snow. In 
this way, instead of their being providers for the wol- 
verene, the reverse is the true story. Notwithstanding, 
the wolverene will eat them too, whenever he can get 
his claws upon them ; but as they are much swifter 
than he, this seldom happens. The foxes, however. 
159 


Ubc l^oung IDo^a^eurs 


are themselves taken in traps, or more commonly shot 
by guns set for the purpose, with the bait attached by 
a string to the trigger. Often the wolverene, finding 
the foxes dead or wounded, makes a meal of them 
before the hunter comes along to examine his traps and 
guns. The wolverene kills many of the foxes while 
young, and sometimes on finding their burrow, widens 
it with his strong claws, and eats the whole family in 
their nests. Even young wolves sometimes become his 
prey. He lives, in fact, on very bad terms with both 
foxes and wolves, and often robs the latter of a fat deer 
which they may have just killed, and are preparing to 
dine upon. The beaver, however, is his favourite food, 
and but that these creatures can escape him by taking 
to the water — in which element he is not at all at home 
— he would soon exterminate their whole race. His 
great strength and acute scent enable him to overcome 
almost every wild creature of the forest or prairie. He 
is even said to be a full match for either the panther or 
the black bear. 

The wolverene lives in clefts of rock, or in hollow 
trees, where such are to be found ; but he is equally 
an inhabitant of the forest and the prairie. He is 
found in fertile districts, as well as in the most remote 
deserts. His range is extensive, but he is properly a 
denizen of the cold and snowy regions. In the south- 
ern parts of the United States he is no longer known, 


i6o 


H pair of Deep Divers 


though it is certain that he once lived there when those 
countries were inhabited by the beaver. North of 
latitude 40° he ranges perhaps to the pole itself, as 
traces of him have been found as far as man has yet 
penetrated. He is a solitary creature, and, like most 
predatory animals, a nocturnal prowler. The female 
brings forth two, sometimes three and four, at a birth. 
The cubs are of a cream colour, and only when full-grown 
acquire that dark-brown hue, which in the extreme of 
winter often passes into black. The fur is not unlike 
that of the bear, but is shorter-haired, and of less 
value than a bear-skin. Notwithstanding, it is an 
article of trade with the Hudson’s Bay Company, who 
procure many thousands of the skin annually. 

The Canadian voyageurs call the wolverene “carca- 
jou ’’ ; while among the Orkney and Scotch servants 
of the Hudson’s Bay Company he is oftener known as 
the “ quickhatch.’’ It is supposed that both these 
names are corruptions of the Cree word okee-Qoo-haw- 
gew (the name of the wolverene among the Indians of 
that tribe). Many words from the same language 
have been adopted by both voyageurs and traders. 

Those points in the natural history of the wolverene, 
that might be called scientific, were imparted by Lucien, 
while Norman furnished the information about its 
habits. Norman knew the animal as one of the most 
common in the “ trade ” ; and in addition to what we 

II 

I6I 


Ubc ISouuG IDopa^eurs 


have recorded, also related many adventures and stories 
current among the voyageurs, in which this creature 
figures in quite as fanciful a manner, as he does in 
the works either of Olaus Magnus, or Count de 
Buffon. 


162 


CHAPTER XVI. 


A GRAND SUNDAY DINNER. 

FTER remaining a day at their first camp on the 



lake, our voyageurs continued their journey. 
Their course lay a little to the west of north, as the 
edge of the lake trended in that direction. Their 
usual plan, as already stated, was to keep out in the 
lake far enough to shun the numerous indentations of 
the shore, yet not so far as to endanger their little 
craft when the wind was high. At night they always 
landed, either upon some point or on an island. 
Sometimes the wind blew “dead ahead,” and then 
their day’s journey would be only a few miles. When 
the wind was favourable they made good progress, 
using the skin of the wapiti for a sail. On one of 
these days they reckoned a distance of over forty 
miles from camp to camp. 

It was their custom always to lie by on Sunday, for 
our young voyageurs were Christians. They had done 
so on their former expedition across the Southern 
prairies, and they had found the practice to their ad- 
vantage in a physical as well as a moral sense. They 


163 


TLbc l^oung IDo^ageurs 


required the rest thus obtained ; besides, a general 
cleaning up is necessary, at least, once every week. 
Sunday was also a day of feasting with them. They 
had more time to devote to culinary operations, and 
the cuisine of that day was always the most varied of 
the week. Any extra delicacy obtained by the rifle on 
previous days, was usually reserved for the Sunday’s 
dinner. 

On the flrst Sunday after entering Take Winnipeg 
the “camp” chanced to be upon an island. It was 
a small island, of only a few acres in extent. It lay 
near the shore, and was well wooded over its whole 
surface with trees of many different kinds. Indeed, 
islands in a large lake usually have a great variety of 
trees, as the seeds of all those sorts that grow around 
the shores are carried thither by the waves, or in the 
crops of the numerous birds that flit over its waters. 
But as the island in question lay in a lake, whose 
shores exhibited such a varied geology, it was natural 
the vegetation of the island itself should be varied. 
And, in truth, it was so. There were upon it, down 
by the water’s edge, willows and cottonwoods {Populus 
angulata), the characteristic sylva of the prairie land ; 
there were birches and sugar-maples {^Acer saccha- 
rmum ) ; and upon some higher ground, near the 
centre, appeared several species that belonged more 
to the primitive formations that bounded the lake on 
the east. These were pines and spruces, the juniper, 
164 


H Oranb Sunbap Dinner 


and tamarack or American larch {Laryx Americana ) ; 
and among others could be distinguished the dark cone- 
shaped forms of the red cedar trees. Among the low 
bushes and shrubs there were rose and wild raspberry ; 
there were apple and plum trees, and whole thickets of 
the “ Pembina” (Viburnum oxycoccos). There is, in 
fact, no part of the world where a greater variety of 
wild fruit has been found indigenous than upon the 
banks of the Red River of the North, and this variety 
extended to the little island where our voyageurs had 
encamped. 

The camp had been placed under a beautiful tree — 
the tacamahac, or balsam poplar (Populus balsamifera). 
This is one of the finest trees of America, and one 
of those that extend farthest north into the cold coun- 
tries. In favourable situations it attains a height 
of one hundred and fifty feet, with a proportion- 
ate thickness of trunk ; but it is oftener only fifty or 
eighty feet high. Its leaves are oval, and, when 
young, of a rich yellowish colour, which changes to 
a bright green. The buds are very large, yellow, 
and covered with a varnish, which exhales a delightful 
fragrance, and gives to the tree its specific name. 

It was near sunset on the afternoon of Saturday ; 
the travellers had just finished their repast, and were 
reclining around a fire of red cedar, whose delicate 
smoke curled up among the pale-green leaves of the 
poplars. The fragrant smell of the burning wood, 
165 


XTbe l^ouno IDoi^aaeurs 


mixed with the aromatic odour of the balsam-tree, 
filled the air with a sweet perfume, and, almost with- 
out knowing why, our voyageurs felt a sense of 
pleasure stealing over them. The woods of the little 
island were not without their voices. The scream of 
the jay was heard, and his bright azure wing appeared 
now and then among the foliage. The scarlet plumage 
of the cardinal grosbeak flashed under the beams of 
the setting sun ; and the trumpet-note of the ivory- 
billed woodpecker was heard near the centre of the 
island. An osprey was circling in the air, with his 
eye bent on the water below, watching for his finny 
prey ; and a pair of bald eagles {^Halicetus leucocephalus) 
were winging their way towards the adjacent main- 
land. Half a dozen turkey vultures {Cathartes at- 
ratus) were wheeling above the beach, where some 
object, fish or carrion, had been thrown up by the 
waves. 

For some time the party remained silent, each con- 
templating the scene with feelings of pleasure. Fran- 
cois, as usual, first broke the silence. 

“I say, cook, what ’s for dinner to-morrow?” 

It was to Ivucien this speech was addressed. He was 
regarded as the maitre de cuisine, 

‘ ‘ Roast or boiled — which would you prefer ? ’ ’ asked 
the cook, with a significant smile. 

” Ha ! ha ! ha ! ” laughed Francois ; “ boiled, 

indeed ! a pretty boil we could have in a tin cup, hold- 
166 


H Grant) Sunba^ Dinner 


ing less than a pint. I wish we could have a boiled 
joint and a bowl of soup. I ’d give something for 
it. I’m precious tired of this everlasting dry roast.” 

“You shall have both,” rejoined I^ucien, “for to- 
morrow’s dinner. I promise you both the soup and 
the joint.” 

Again Francois laughed incredulously. 

“ Do you mean to make soup in your shoe, 
I/Uce ? ’ ’ 

“ No ; but I shall make it in this.” 

And lyucien held up a vessel somewhat like a water 
pail, which the day before he had himself made out of 
birch-bark. 

“ Well,” replied Francois, “ I know you have got a 
vessel that holds water, but cold water ain’t soup ; and 
if you can boil water in that vessel. I’ll believe you 
to be a conjuror. I know you can do some curious 
things with ' your chemical mixtures ; but that you 
can’t do, I’m sure. Why, man, the bottom would be 
burned out of your bucket before the water got blood 
warm. Soup, indeed ! ’ ’ 

“Never mind, Frank, you shall see. You’re only 
like the rest of mankind — incredulous about everything 
they can’t comprehend. If you ’ll take your hook and 
line, and catch some fish, I promise to give you a din- 
ner to-morrow, with all the regular courses — soup, fish, 
boiled, roast and dessert, too ! I’m satisfied I can do 
all that.” 


167 


Ube 13oun0 IDoi^aaeurs 


^^Parbleu! brother, you should have been cook to 
lyucullus. Well, I ’ll catch the fish for you.” 

So saying, Francois took a fish-hook and line out of 
his pouch, and fixing a large grasshopper upon the 
hook, stepped forward to the edge of the water, and 
cast it in. The float was soon seen to bob and then 
sink, and Francois jerked his hook ashore with a small 
and very pretty fish upon it of a silver hue, with which 
the lake and the waters running into it abound. Tncien 
told him it was a fish of the genus Hyodon. He also 
advised him to bait with a worm, and let his bait sink 
to the bottom, and he might catch a sturgeon, which 
would be a larger fish. 

‘ ‘ How do you know there are sturgeon in the lake ? ’ ’ 
inquired Francois. 

” I am pretty sure of that,” answered the naturalist ; 
“the sturgeon (Acipenser) is found all round the world 
in the northern temperate zone — both in its seas and 
fresh waters ; although, when you go farther south 
into the warmer climate, no sturgeons exist. I am 
sure there are some here, perhaps more than one species. 
Sink your bait, for the sturgeon is a toothless fish, and 
feeds upon soft substances at the bottom.” 

Francois followed the advice of his brother, and in a 
few minutes he had a “nibble,” and drew up and 
landed a very large fish, full three feet in length. 
lyUcien at once pronounced it a sturgeon, but of a 
species he had not before seen. It was the Acipenser 

i68 


H 0ran^ Sun^a^ Dinner 


carbonarius, a curious sort of fish found in these waters. 
It did not look like a fish that would be pleasant 
eating ; therefore Francois again took to bobbing for 
the silver fish (^Hyodons)^ which, though small, he knew 
to be excellent when broiled. 

“ Come,” said Basil, “I must furnish my quota to 
this famous dinner that is to be. Let me see what 
there is on the island in the way of game ’ ’ ; and 
shouldering his rifle, he walked off among the trees. 

” And I,” said Norman, ” am not going to eat the 
produce of other people’s labour without contributing 
my share.” 

So the young trader took up his gun and went off in 
a different direction. 

“Good!” exclaimed lyucien, “we are likely to 
have plenty of meat for the dinner. I must see about 
the vegetables ’ ’ ; and taking with him his new-made 
vessel, lyucien sauntered off along the shore of the 
islet. Francois alone remained by the camp, and con- 
tinued his fishing. Fet us follow the plant-hunter, 
and learn a lesson of practical botany. 

Fucien had not gone far, when he came to what 
appeared to be a mere sedge growing in the water. 
The stalks or culms of this sedge were full eight feet 
high, with smooth leaves, an inch broad, nearly a yard 
in length, and of a light green colour. At the top of 
each stalk was a large panicle of seeds, somewhat 
resembling a head of oats. The plant itself was the 

169 


Ubc l^ouno IDo^a^eurs 


famous wild rice {Zizania aquatica)^ so much prized 
by the Indians as an article of food, and also the favour- 
ite of many wild birds, especially the reed-bird or rice- 
bunting. The grain of the zizania was not yet ripe, 
but the ears were tolerably well filled, and Tucien saw 
that it would do for his purpose. He therefore waded 
in, and stripped off into his vessel as much as he wanted. 

“lam safe for rice- soup, at all events,” soliloquised 
he, “ but I think I can do still better ” ; and he con- 
tinued on around the shore, and shortly after struck 
into some heavy timber that grew in a damp, rich soil. 
He had walked about an hundred yards farther, when 
he was seen to stoop and examine some object on the 
ground. 

‘ ‘ It ought to be found here, ’ ’ he muttered to him- 
self ; ‘ ‘ this is the very soil for it, — yes, here we have 
it ! ” 

The object over which he was stooping was a plant, 
but its leaves appeared shrivelled, or rather quite 
withered away. The upper part of a bulbous root, 
however, was just visible above the surface. It was a 
bulb of the wild leek (Allium tricoccuni). The leaves, 
when young, are about six inches in length, of a flat 
shape and often three inches broad ; but, strange to 
say, they shrivel or die off very early in the season, — 
even before the plant flowers, and then it is difficult to 
find the bulb. 

Tucien, however, had sharp eyes for such things; 

170 


H Oranb Dinner 


and in a short whiles' he had rooted out several bulbs as 
large as pigeons’ eggs, and deposited them in his 
birchen vessel. He now turned to go back to camp, 
satisfied with what he had obtained. He had the rice 
to give consistency to his soup, and the leek-roots to 
flavour it with. That would be enough. 

As he was walking over a piece of boggy ground his 
eye was attracted to a singular plant, whose tall stem 
rose high above the grass. It was full eight feet in 
height, and at its top there was an umbel of conspicu- 
ous white flowers. Its leaves were large, lobed, and 
toothed, and the stem itself was over an inch in diam- 
eter, with furrows running longitudinally. Tucien had 
never seen the plant before, although he had often 
heard accounts of it, and he at once recognised it from 
its botanical description. It was the celebrated “ cow 
parsnip ” (^Heracleum lanaturn). Its stem was jointed 
and hollow, and Lucien had heard that the Indians 
called it in their language “ flute stem,” as they often 
used it to make their rude musical instruments from, 
and also a sort of whistle or “call,” by which they 
were enabled to imitate and decoy several kinds of 
deer. But there was another use to which the plant 
was put, of which the naturalist was not aware. Nor- 
man, who had been wandering about, came up at this 
moment, and seeing Tucien standing by the plant, 
uttered a joyful “ Hullo ! ” 

“Well,” inquired Tucien, “ what pleases you, coz ? ” 


Zbc Iffouna IDo^aoeurs 


“Why, the flute-stem, of course. You talked of 
making a soup. It will help you, I fancy.” 

‘ ‘ How ? ’ ’ demanded I^ucien. 

“ Why, the young stems are good eating, and the 
roots, if you will ; but the young shoots are better. 
Both Indians and voyageurs eat them in soup, and are 
fond of them. It ’s a famous thing, I assure you.” 

“ Let us gather some, then,” said Lucien ; and the 
cousins commenced cutting oflf such stems as were still 
young and tender. As soon as they had obtained 
enough, 'they took their way back to the camp. Basil 
had already arrived with a fine prairie hen {Tetrao 
cupidd) which he had shot, and Norman had brought 
back a squirrel ; so that, with Francois’ fish, of which 
a sufficient number had been caught, Lucien was likely 
to be able to keep his promise about the dinner. 

Frangois, however, could not yet comprehend how 
the soup was to be boiled in a wooden pot ; and, in- 
deed, Basil was unable to guess. Norman, however, 
knew well enough, for he had travelled through the 
country of the Assinoboil Indians, who take their name 
from this very thing. He had also witnessed the 
operation performed by Crees, Chippewas, and even 
voyageurs, where metal or earthen pots could not be 
obtained. 

On the next day the mystery was cleared up to Basil 
and Francois. Lucien first collected a number of stones 
— about as large as paving-stones. He chose such as 


172 


H 0ran^ Sunt)ap Dinner 


were hard and smooth. These he flung into the cin- 
ders, where they soon became red-hot. The water and 
meat were now put into the bark pot, and then one 
stone after another, — each being taken out as it 
got cooled, — until the water came to a fierce boil. 
The rice and other ingredients were added at the 
proper time, and in a short while an excellent soup was 
made. So much, then, for the soup, and the boiled 
dishes with vegetables. The roast, of course, was easily 
made ready upon green- wood spits, and the “game” 
was cooked in a similar way. The fish were broiled 
upon the red cinders, and eaten, as is usual, after the 
soup. There were no puddings or pies, though, no 
doubt, Lucien could have made such had they been 
wanted. In their place there was an excellent service 
of fruit. There were strawberries and raspberries, one 
sort of which found wild in this region is of a most de- 
licious flavour. There were gooseberries and currants ; 
but the most delicious fruit, and that which Francois 
liked best, was a small berry of a dark blue colour, not 
unlike the huckleberry, but much sweeter and of higher 
flavour. It grows on a low bush or shrub with ovate 
leaves ; and this bush when it blossoms is so covered 
with beautiful white flowers, that neither leaves nor 
branches can be seen. There are no less than four varie- 
ties of it known, two of which attain to the height of 
twenty feet or more. The French-Canadians call it 
“ le poire,” but in most parts of America it is known as 
173 


XTbe igouuG IDo^aoeurs 


the “service-berry,” although several other names are 
given to it in different districts, h-ucien informed his 
companions, while they were crushing its sweet pur- 
plish fruit between their teeth, that its botanical name 
is Amelanchier. 

“ Now,” remarked Francois, “if we only had a cup 
of coffee and a glass of wine, we might say that we had 
dined in fashionable style.” 

“I think,” replied lyucien, “we are better without 
the wine, and as for the other I cannot give you that, 
but I fancy I can provide you with a cup of tea if you 
only allow me a little time. ’ ’ 

“Tea!” screamed Francois; “why, there’s not a 
leaf of tea nearer than China ; and for the sugar, not a 
grain within hundreds of miles I ’ ’ 

“ Come, Frank,” said Fucien, “nature has not been 
so ungenerous here, — even in such luxuries as tea and 
sugar. Took yonder ! You see those large trees with 
the dark-coloured trunks. What are they ? ’ ’ 
“Sugar-maples,” replied Francois. 

“ Well,” said Fucien, “ I think even at this late sea- 
son we might contrive to extract sap enough from them 
to sweeten a cup of tea. You may try, while I go in 
search of the tea-plant.” 

“ Upon my word, Fuce, you are equal to a wholesale 
grocery. Very well. Come, Basil, we ’ll tap the 
maples ; let the captain go with Fuce.” 

The boys, separating into pairs, walked off in dififer- 


174 


H (Brant) Sunbap Dinner 


ent directions. I^ucien and his companion soon lighted 
upon the object of their search in the same wet bot- 
tom where they had procured the Heracleum. It was 
a branching shrub, not over two feet in height, with 
small leaves of a deep green colour above, but whitish 
and woolly* underneath. It is a plant well known 
throughout most of the Hudson’s Bay territory by the 
name of ‘ ‘ Labrador tea-plant ’ ’ ; and is so called be- 
cause the Canadian voyageurs, and other travellers 
through these northern districts, often drink it as tea. 
It is one of the Ericacecs, or heath tribe, of the genus 
Ledum — though it is not a true heath, as, strange to 
say, no true heath is found upon the continent of 
America. 

There are two kinds of it known, — the “narrow- 
leafed” and “broad-leafed” ; and the former makes 
the best tea. But the pretty white flowers of the plant 
are better for the purpose than the leaves of either 
variety ; and these it was that were now gathered 
by Lucien and Norman. They require to be dried 
before the decoction is made ; but this can be done in 
a short time over a fire ; and so in a short time it was 
done, Norman having parched them upon heated 
stones. Meanwhile Basil and Francois had obtained 
the sugar-water, and Lucien having washed his soup- 
kettle clean, and once more made his boiling stones 
red-hot, prepared the beverage ; and then it was served 
out in the tin cup, and all partook of it. Norman had 
175 


XTbe 13ouna IDo^aaeurs 


drunk the Labrador tea before, and was rather fond of 
it, but his Southern cousins did not much relish it. 
Its peculiar flavour, which somewhat resembles rhu- 
barb, was not at all to the liking of Francois. All, 
however, admitted that it produced a cheering effect 
upon their spirits ; and, after drinking it, they felt in 
that peculiarly happy state of mind which one experi- 
ences after a cup of the real “ Bohea.” 


176 


CHAPTER XVII. 


THE marmots of AMERICA. 

F rom such a luxurious dinner you may suppose 
that our young voyageurs lived in prime style. 
But it was not always so. They had their fasts as well 
as feasts. Sometimes for days they had nothing to 
eat but the jerked deer-meat. No bread — no beer — 
no coffee, nothing but water — dry venison and water. 
Of course, this is food enough for a hungry man ; but 
it can hardly be called luxurious living. Now and 
then a wild duck, or a goose, or perhaps a young swan, 
was shot ; and this change in their diet was very 
agreeable. Fish were caught only upon occasions, for 
often these capricious creatures refused Francois’ bait, 
however temptingly offered. After three weeks’ coast- 
ing the Take, they reached the Saskatchewan, and 
turning up that stream, now travelled in a due westerly 
direction. At the Grand Rapids, near the mouth of 
this river, they were obliged to make a portage of no 
less than three miles, but the magnificent view of these 
“Rapids” fully repaid them for the toil they under- 
went in passing them. 

The Saskatchewan is one of the largest rivers in 


tTbe l^ouna IDo^aaeurs 


America, being full 1600 miles in length, from its 
source in the Rocky Mountains to its dibouchure, under 
the name of the “ Nelson River,” in Hudson’s Bay. 
For some distance above Fake Winnipeg, the country 
upon its banks is well wooded. Farther up, the river 
runs through dry sandy prairies that extend westward 
to the foot-hills of the Rocky Mountains. Many of 
these prairies may be properly called ‘ ‘ deserts. ’ ’ They 
contain lakes as salt as the ocean itself, and vast tracks 
— hundreds of square miles in extent — where not a drop 
of water is to be met with. But the route of our voy- 
ageurs did not lie over these prairies. It was their 
intention after reaching Cumberland House, to turn 
again in a northerly direction. 

One evening, when within two days’ journey of the 
Fort, they had encamped upon the bank of the Sas- 
katchewan. They had chosen a beautiful spot for 
their camp, where the country, swelling into rounded 
hills, was prettily interspersed with bushy copses of 
Amelanchiers, and Rosa blanda, whose pale red flowers 
were conspicuous among the green leaves, and fllled 
the air with a sweet fragrance, that was wafted to our 
voyageurs upon the sunny breeze. The ground was 
covered with a grassy sward enamelled by the pink 
flowers of the Cleome and the deeper red blossoms of 
the beautiful wind-flower {Anemone), Upon that day 
our travellers had not succeeded in killing any game, 
and their dinner was likely to consist of nothing better 
178 


^be /iDarmots of Hmerica 


than dry venison scorched over the coals. As they had 
been travelling all the morning against a sharp current, 
and, of course, had taken turn about at the paddles, 
the}^ all felt fatigued, and none of them was inclined 
to go in search of game. They had flung themselves 
down around the fire, and were waiting until the veni- 
son should be broiled for dinner. 

The camp had been placed at the foot of a tolerably 
steep hill, that rose near the banks of the river. There 
was another and higher hill facing it, the whole front 
of which could be seen by our travellers as they sat 
around their fire. While glancing their eyes along its 
declivity, they noticed a number of small protuberances 
or mounds standing within a few feet of each other. 
Kach of them was about a foot in height, and of the 
form of a truncated cone — that is, a cone with its top 
cut off, or beaten down. 

“ What are they ? ” inquired Francois. 

“I fancy,” answered Lucien, “they are marmot- 
houses.” 

“They are,” affirmed Norman; “there are plenty 
of them in this country. ’ ’ 

“Oh, marmots!” said Francois. “Prairie-dogs, 
you mean? — the same we met with on the Southern 
prairies ? ” 

“ I think not,” replied Norman : “I think the 
prairie-dogs are a different sort. Are they not. Cousin 
Tuce?” 


179 


Ubc 13 ounG IDoyageurs 


“Yes, yes,” answered the naturalist; “these must 
be a different species. There are too few of them to 
be the houses of prairie-dogs. The ‘ dogs ’ live in 
large settlements, many hundreds of them in one place ; 
besides, their domes are somewhat different in appear- 
ance from these. The mounds of the prairie-dogs have 
a hole in the top or on one side. These, you see, have 
not. The hole is in the ground beside them, and the 
hill is in front, made by the earth taken out of the 
burrow, just as you have seen it at the entrance of a 
rat’s hole. They are marmots, I have no doubt, but 
of a different species from the prairie-dog mar- 
mots.” 

‘ ‘ Are there not many kinds of marmots in America ? 
I have heard so, ’ ’ said Francois. 

This question was of course addressed to Tucien. 

“Yes,” answered he. “ The fauna of North Amer- 
ica is peculiarly rich in species of these singular ani- 
mals. There are thirteen kinds of them, well known 
to naturalists ; and there are even some varieties in 
these thirteen kinds that might almost be considered 
distinct species. I have no doubt, moreover, there are 
yet other species which have not been described. 
Perhaps, altogether, there are not less than twenty 
different kinds of marmots in North America. As 
only one or two species are found in the settled terri- 
tories of the United States, it was supposed, until 
lately, that there were no others. Uatterly the natural- 
180 


Xlbe /IDarmots ot Hmerica 


ists of North America have been very active in their 
researches, and no genus of animals has rewarded them 
so well as the marmots — unless, perhaps, it may be the 
squirrels. Almost every year a new species of one or^ 
the other of these has been found — mostly inhabiting 
the vast wilderness territories that lie between the 
Mississippi and the Pacific Ocean. 

‘ ‘ As regards the marmots, the closet-naturalists^ as 
usual, have rendered their history as complicated and 
difiicult to be understood as possible. They have 
divided them into several genera, because one kind 
happens to have a larger tubercle upon its tooth than 
another, or a little more curving in its claws, or a 
shorter tail. It is true that in the thirteen species 
some differ considerably from the others in size, colour, 
and other respects. Yet, for all that, there is such an 
identity, if I may so express it, about the mode of life, 
the food, the appearance, and habits of all the thirteen, 
that I think it is both absurd and ill-judged to render 
the study of them more difficult, by thus dividing them 
into so many genera. They are all marmots, that is 
what they are ; and why confound the study of them 
by calling them spermophiles and arctomys, and such- 
like hard names ? ” 

“I quite agree with you, Lnce,” said the hunter, 
Basil, who, although not averse to the study of natural 
history (all hunters, I believe, love it more or less), 
had no great opinion of the closet-naturalists and 

i8i 


XTbe l^oung IDogaoeurs 


“babblers about teeth,” as he contemptuously called 
them. 

“When a family of animals,” continued I^ucien, 
‘ ‘ contains a great many species, and these species 
differ widely from each other, I admit that it may 
then be convenient and useful to class them into 
genera, and sometimes even sub-genera ; but, on the 
other hand, when there are only a few species, and 
these closely allied to each other, I think nothing 
can be more ridiculous than this dividing and sub- 
dividing, and giving such unpronounceable names 
to them. It is this that renders the study difScult, 
because even the committing to memory such a string 
of unmeaning phrases is of itself no easy task. Take, 
for example, such a phrase as ‘ Arctomys spermophitlus 
Richardsonii' which, although nearly a yard long, 
means simply the ‘ tawny marmot. ’ Do not mistake 
me,” continued Tucien ; “I do not object to the use 
of the Greek or Latin phraseology used in such cases. 
Some universal language must be adopted, so that the 
naturalists of different countries may understand each 
other. But then this language should, when trans- 
lated, describe the animal, by giving some of its 
characteristics, and thus have a meaning. On the 
contrary, it usually, when put into plain English, 
gives us only the name — often a clumsy and unpro- 
nounceable German one — of some obscure friend of 
the author, or, as is not unfrequently the case, some 
182 


XTbe /iDarmots ot Bmertca 


lordly patron for whom your closet-naturalist enter- 
tains a flunkey ish regard, and avails himself of this 
means of making it known to his Maecenas. In my 
opinion,” continued Lucien, warming with the enthusi- 
asm of a true naturalist, ‘ ‘ it is a most impertinent 
interference with the beautiful things of Nature— her 
birds and quadrupeds, her plants and flowers — to 
couple them with the names of kings, princes, lords, 
and lordlings, who chance to be the local gods of 
some closet-naturalist. It is these catalogue-makers 
who generally multiply synonyms so as to render 
science unintelligible. Sitting in their easy-chairs 
they know little or nothing of the habits of the 
animals about which they write ; and therefore, to 
write something original, they multiply names, and 
give measurements ad infinitum^ and this among them 
constitutes a science. I do not, of course, include 
among these the man whose name is given— Richard- 
son. No ; he was a true naturalist, who travelled 
and underwent hardships to earn the high name which 
he bears and so well deserves.” 

“Brother I,uce,” said Basil, “you grow excited 
upon this subject, and that is something of a rarity 
to see. I agree with you, however, in all you have 
said. Previous to our leaving home I read several 
books upon natural history. They were the works 
of distinguished closet-naturalists. Well, I found 
that all the information they contained about the 
183 


XTbe ^oxxm l^oi^aoeurs 


animals of these Northern regions — at least, all that 
could be called information — I had read somewhere 
before. After thinking for a while I recollected where. 
It was in the pages of the traveller Hearne — a man 
who, among these scientific gentlemen, is considered 
only in the light of a rude traveller, and not deserving 
the name of naturalist. Hearne journeyed to the 
Arctic Sea so early as the year 1771 ; and to him the 
world is indebted for their first knowledge of the fact 
that there was no strait across the Continent south of 
the seventieth parallel of latitude.” 

“Yes,” said I^ucien, “ he was sent out by the Hud- 
son’s Bay Company, perhaps more scantily furnished 
than any explorer ever was before. He underwent 
the most dreadful hardships and perils, and has left 
behind him an account of the inhabitants and natural 
history of these parts, so full and so truthful, that it 
has not only stood the test of subsequent observation, 
but the closet-naturalists have added but little to it 
ever since. Most of them have been satisfied with 
giving just what poor Hearne had gathered — as, in 
fact, they knew nothing more, and could not, there- 
fore, add anything. Some of them have quoted his 
own words, and given him the credit of his vast 
labour ; while others have endeavoured to pass off 
Hearne’ s knowledge as their own, by giving a slightly 
altered paraphrase of his language. This sort of 
thing,” said Tucien, “ makes me indignant.” 

184 


XTbe /Ibannots of Htnerica 


“ It ’s downright mean,” interposed Norman. “ All 
of us in this country have heard of Hearne. He was 
a right hardy traveller, and no mistake about it.” 

“Well, then,” said Lucien, cooling down, and re- 
suming the subject of the marmots, “ these little ani- 
mals seem to form a link between the squirrels and 
rabbits. On the side of the squirrels they very natur- 
ally join on, if I may use the expression, to the 
ground-squirrel, and some of them differ but little in 
their habits from many of the latter. Other species, 
again, are more allied to the rabbits, and less like the 
squirrels ; and there are two or three kinds that I 
should say — using a Yankee expression — have a 
‘ sprinkling ’ of the rat in them. Some, as the ground- 
hog, or wood-chuck of the United States, are as large 
as rabbits, while others, as the leopard-marmot, are 
not bigger than Norway rats. Some species have 
cheek-pouches, in which they can carry a large quan- 
tity of seeds, nuts, and roots, when they wish to hoard 
them up for future use. These are -the spermophiles, 
and some species of these have more capacious pouches 
than others. Their food differs somewhat, perhaps 
according to the circumstances in which they may be 
placed. In all cases it is vegetable. Some, as the 
prairie-dogs, live upon grasses, while others subsist 
chiefly upon seeds, berries, and leaves. It was long 
supposed that the marmots, like the squirrels, laid up 
stores against the winter. I believe this is not the case 
185 


Ube l^oung IDopa^eurs 


with any of the different species. I know for certain 
that most of them pass the winter in a state of torpidity, 
and of course require no provisions, as they eat nothing 
during that season. , In this we observe one of those 
cases in which Nature so beautifully adapts a creature 
to its circumstances. In the countries where many of 
the marmots are found, so severe are the winters, and 
so barren the soil, that it would be impossible for these 
creatures to get a morsel of food for many long months. 
During this period, therefore. Nature suspends her 
functions, by putting them into a deep, and, for aught 
we know to the contrary, a pleasant sleep. It is only 
when the snow melts, under the vernal sun, and the 
green blades of grass and the spring flowers array 
themselves on the surface of the earth, that the little 
marmots make their appearance again. Then the 
warm air, penetrating into their subterranean abodes, 
admonishes them to awake from their protracted slum- 
ber, and come forth to the enjoyment of their summer 
life. These animals may be said, therefore, to have no 
winter. Their life is altogether a season of summer 
and sunshine. 

“ Some of the marmots,” continued Tucien, “ live in 
large communities, as the prairie-dogs ; others, in 
smaller tribes, while still other species lead a solitary 
life, going only in pairs, or at most in families. Nearly 
all of them are burrowing animals, though there are 
one or two species that are satisfled with a cleft in the 
1 86 


Zbc /iDarmots of Hmertca 


rock, or a hole among loose stones for their nests. 
Some of them are tree-climbers, but it is supposed they 
only ascend trees in search of food, as they do not 
make their dwellings there. Many of the species are 
very prolific, the females bringing forth eight, and even 
ten young at a birth. 

‘ ‘ The marmots are extremely shy and watchful 
creatures. Before going to feed, they usually recon- 
noitre the ground from the tops of their little mounds. 
Some species do not have such mounds, and for this 
purpose ascend any little hillock that may be near. 
Nearly all have the curious habit of placing sentries to 
watch while the rest are feeding. These sentries station 
themselves on some commanding point, and when they 
see an enemy approaching give warning to the others 
by a peculiar cry. In several of the species this cry 
resembles the syllables ‘ seek-seek ’ repeated with a 
hiss. Others bark like ‘toy-dogs,’ while still other 
kinds utter a whistling noise, from which one species 
derives its trivial name of ‘ whistler ’ among the traders, 
and is the ‘ siffleur ’ of the Canadian voyageurs. 

“The ‘whistler’s’ call of alarm can be heard at a 
great distance ; and when uttered by the sentinel is 
repeated by all the others as far as the troop extends. 

“ The marmots are eaten both by Indians and white 
hunters. Sometimes they are captured by pouring water 
into their burrows ; but this method only succeeds in 
early spring, when the animals awake out of their tor- 
187 


Zbc l^ourtG IDopaaeurs 


pid state, and the ground is still frozen hard enough to 
prevent the water from filtering away. They are some- 
times shot with guns ; but, unless killed upon the spot, 
they will escape to their burrows, and tumble in before 
the hunter can lay his hands upon them.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


Tun BIvAIRKAU, THE5 “ TAWNIKS,” AND THEJ 
“ DEJOPARDS.” 

KRHAPS Eucien would have carried his account 



of the marmots still farther — for he had not told 


half what he knew of their habits — but he was at that 
moment interrupted by the marmots themselves. 
Several of them appeared at the mouths of their holes ; 
and, after looking out and reconnoitring for some mo- 
ments, became bolder, and ran up to the tops of their 
mounds, and began to scatter along the little beaten 
paths that led from one to the other. In a short while 
as many as a dozen could be seen moving about, jerk- 
ing their tails, and at intervals uttering their ‘ ‘ seek- 


seek.” 


Our voyageurs saw that there were two kinds of 
them, entirely different in colour, size, and other 
respects. The larger ones were of a greyish yellow 
above, with an orange tint upon the throat and belly. 
These were the “tawny marmots,” called sometimes 
“ ground-squirrels,” and by the voyageurs, “ siffleurs,” 
or “ whistlers.” The other species seen were the most 


Zbc IffourtG IDo^a^eurs 


beautiful of all the marmots. They were very little 
smaller than the tawny marmots ; but their tails were 
larger and more slender, which rendered their appear- 
ance more graceful. Their chief beauty, however, lay 
in their colours and markings. They were striped 
from the nose to the rump with bands of yellow and 
chocolate colour, which alternated with each other, 
while the chocolate bands were themselves variegated 
by rows of yellow spots regularly placed. These mark- 
ings gave the animals that peculiar appearance so well 
known as characterising the skin of the leopard, hence 
the name of these little creatures was “ leopard mar- 
mots.” 

It was plain from their actions that both kinds were 
“ at home” among the mounds, and that both had 
their burrows there. This was the fact, and Norman 
told his companion that the two kinds are always found 
together, not living in the same houses, but only as 
neighbours in the same “settlement.” The burrows 
of the ‘ ‘ leopard ’ ’ have much smaller entrances than 
those of their “ tawny kin,” and run down perpendic- 
ularly to a greater depth before branching off in a hor- 
izontal direction. A straight stick may be thrust down 
one of these full five feet before reaching an ‘ ‘ elbow. ’ ’ 
The holes of the tawny marmots, on the contrary, 
branch off near the surface, and are not so deep under 
ground. This guides us to the explanation of a singu- 
lar fact — which is, that the “ tawnies ” make their 


IQO 


Blatreau, ‘‘Xlawmes/’ anb '^Xeoparbs’' 


appearance three weeks earlier in the spring than the 
“leopards,” in consequence of the heat of the sun 
reaching them sooner, and waking them out of their 
torpid sleep. 

While these explanations were passing among the 
boys, the marmots had come out, to the number of a 
score, and were carrying on their gambols along the 
declivity of the hill. They were at too great a distance 
to heed the movements of the travellers by the camp 
fire. Besides, a considerable valley lay between them 
and the camp, which, as they believed, rendered their 
position secure. They were not at such a distance but 
that many of their movements could be clearly made 
out by the boys, who after a while noticed that several 
furious battles were being fought among them. It was 
not the ‘ ‘ tawnies ’ ’ against the others, but the males 
of each kind in single combats with one another. They 
fought like little cats, exhibiting the highest degree of 
boldness and fury ; but it was noticed that in these con- 
flicts the leopards were far more active and spiteful 
than their kinsmen. In observing them through his 
glass lyucien noticed that they frequently seized each 
other by the tails, and he further noticed that several 
of them had their tails much shorter than the rest. 
Norman said that these had been bitten off in their bat- 
tles ; and, moreover, that it was a rare thing to find 
among the males, or “ bucks,” as he called them, one 
that had a perfect tail 


Ubc l^oung IDo^aoeurs 


While these observations were being made, the atten- 
tion of our party was attracted to a strange animal that 
was seen slowly crawling around the hill. It was a 
creature about as big as an ordinary setter dog, but 
much thicker in the body, shorter in the legs, and 
shaggier in the coat. Its head was flat, and its ears 
short and rounded. Its hair was long, rough, and of a 
mottled hoary grey colour, but dark-brown upon the 
legs and tail. The latter, though covered with long 
hair, was short, and carried upright ; and upon the 
broad feet of the animal could be seen long and strong 
curving claws. Its snout was sharp as that of a grey- 
hound — though not so prettily formed — and a white 
stripe, passing from its very tip over the crown, and 
bordered by two darker bands, gave a singular expres- 
sion to the animal’s countenance. It was altogether, 
both in form and feature, a strange and vicious-looking 
creature. Norman recognised it at once as the “ blai- 
reau,” or American badger. The others had never 
seen such a creature before — as it is not an inhabitant 
of the South, nor of any part of the settled portion of 
the United States, for the animal there sometimes called 
a badger is the ground-hog, or Maryland marmot 
(^Arctomys monax). Indeed, it was for a long time be- 
lieved that no true badger inhabited the Continent of 
America. Now, however, it is known that such exists, 
although it is of a species distinct from the badger of 
Kurope. It is less in size than the latter, and its fur is 
192 


Blaireau, ''tTawnies/' anb ''Xeopart)s’* 


longer, finer, and lighter in colour ; but it is also more 
voracious in its habits, preying constantly upon mice, 
marmots, and other small animals, and feeding upon 
carcasses, whenever it chances to meet with such. 
It is an inhabitant of the sandy and barren districts, 
where it burrows the earth in such a manner that horses 
frequently sink and snap their legs in the hollow ground 
made by it. These are not always the holes scraped 
out for its own residence, but the burrows of the mar- 
mots, which the blaireau has enlarged, so that it may 
enter and prey upon them. In this way the creature 
obtains most of its food, but as the marmots lie torpid 
during the winter months, and the ground above them 
is frozen hard as a rock, it is then impossible for the 
blaireau to effect an entrance. At this season it would 
undoubtedly starve had not Nature provided against 
such a result, by giving it the power of sleeping 
throughout the winter months as well as the marmots 
themselves, which it does. As soon as it wakes up and 
comes abroad, it begins its campaign against these 
little creatures ; and it prefers, above all others, the 
“tawnies,” and the beautiful “leopards,” both of 
which it persecutes incessantly. 

The badger when first seen was creeping along with 

its belly almost dragging the ground, and its long snout 

projected horizontally in the direction of the marmot 

“ village.” It was evidently meditating a surprise of 

the inhabitants. Now and then it would stop, like a 
13 


193 


XTbe ISouna IDo^a^eurs 


pointer dog when close to a partridge, reconnoitre a 
moment, and then go on again. Its design appeared to 
be to get between the marmots and their burrows, in- 
tercept some of them, and get a hold of them without 
the trouble of digging them up — although that would 
be no great affair to it, for so strong are its fore-arms 
and claws that in loose soil it can make its way under 
the ground as fast as a mole. 

Slowly and cautiously it stole along, its hind-feet 
resting all their length upon the ground, its hideous 
snout thrown forward, and its eyes glaring with a 
voracious and hungry expression. It had got within 
fifty paces of the marmots, and would, no doubt, have 
succeeded in cutting off the retreat of some of them, 
but at that moment a burrowing owl {Strix cunicu- 
laria), that had been perched upon one of the mounds, 
rose up, and commenced hovering in circles above the 
intruder. This drew the attention of the marmot 
sentries to their well-known enemy, and their warning 
cry was followed by a general scamper of both tawnies 
and leopards towards their respective burrows. 

The blaireau, seeing that further concealment was 
no longer of any use, raised himself higher upon his 
limbs, and sprang forward in pursuit. He was too 
late, however, as the marmots had all got into their 
holes, and their angry “seek-seek” was heard pro- 
ceeding from various quarters out of the bowels of the 
earth. The blaireau only hesitated long enough to 
194 


Blaireau, ''XTavvntes/' ant) ''Xeopart)6” 


select one of the burrows into which he was sure a 
marmot had entered ; and then, setting himself to his 
work, he commenced throwing out the mould like a 
terrier. In a few seconds he was half buried, and his 
hind- quarters and tail alone remained above ground. 
He would soon have disappeared entirely, but at that 
moment the boys, directed and headed by Norman, 
ran up the hill, and seizing him by the tail, endeav- 
oured to jerk him back. That, however, was a task 
which they could not accomplish, for first one and 
then another, and then Basil and Norman — who were 
both strong boys — pulled with all their might, and 
could not move him. Norman cautioned them against 
letting him go, as in a moment’s time he would burrow 
beyond their reach. So they held on until Francois 
had got his gun ready. This the latter soon did, and a 
load of small shot was fired into the blaireau’s hips, 
which, although it did not quite kill him, caused him 
to back out of the hole, and brought him into the 
clutches of Marengo. A desperate struggle ensued, 
which ended by the bloodhound doubling his vast 
black muzzle upon the throat of the blaireau, and 
choking him to death in less than a dozen seconds ; 
and then his hide — the only part which was deemed of 
any value — was taken off and carried to the camp. 
The carcass was left upon the face of the hill, and the 
red shining object was soon espied by the buzzards and 
turkey vultures, so that in a few minutes’ time several 
195 


Ube l^oung IDopageurs 


of these filthy birds were seen hovering around, and 
alighting upon the hill. 

But this was no new sight to our young voyageurs, and 
soon ceased to be noticed by them. Another bird, of a 
different kind, for a short time engaged their attention. 
It was a large hawk, which I^ucien, as soon as he saw 
it, pronounced to be one of the kind known as buzzards 
{Buteo). Of these there are several species in North 
America, but it is not to be supposed that there is any 
resemblance between them and the buzzards just men- 
tioned as having alighted by the carcass of the blai- 
reau. The latter, commonly called ‘ ‘ turkey buzzards, ’ * 
are true vultures, and feed mostly, though not exclu- 
sively, on carrion ; while the “ hawk buzzards ” have 
all the appearance and general habits of the rest of the 
falcon tribe. 

The one in question, Tucien said, was the ‘ ‘ marsh- 
hawk, ’ ’ sometimes also called the ‘ ‘ hen-harrier ’ ’ 
{Falco uliginosus), Norman stated that it was known 
among the Indians of these parts as the “snake-bird,’^ 
because it preys upon a species of small green snake 
that is common on the plains of the Saskatchewan, and 
of which it is fonder than of any other food. 

The voyageurs were not long in having evidence of 
the appropriateness of the Indian appellation ; for these 
people, like other savages, have the good habit of 
giving names that express some quality or character- 
istic of the thing itself. The bird in question was on 
196 


Blaireau, ''XTawnies/^ anb ‘'aLeopart)s^^ 


the wing, and from its movements evidently searching 
for game. It sailed in easy circlings near the surface, 
quartering the ground like a pointer dog. It flew so 
lightly that its wings were not seen to move, and 
throughout all its wheelings and turnings it appeared 
to be carried onwards or upwards by the power of 
mere volition. Once or twice its course brought it 
directly over the camp, and Francois had got hold of 
his gun, with the intention of bringing it down, but on 
each occasion it perceived his motions ; and, soaring up 
like a paper-kite until out of reach, it passed over the 
camp, and then sank down again upon the other side, 
and continued its “ quarterings ” as before. For 
nearly half an hour it went on manoeuvring in this way, 
when all at once it was seen to make a sudden turning 
in the air as it fixed its eyes upon some object in the 
grass. The next moment it glided diagonally towards 
the earth, and poising itself for a moment above the 
surface, rose again with a small green-coloured snake 
struggling in its talons. After ascending to some 
height, it directed its flight towards a clump of trees, 
and was soon lost to the view of our travellers. 

lyucien now pointed out to his companions a charac- 
teristic of the hawk and buzzard tribe, by which these 
birds can always be distinguished from the true falcon. 
That peculiarity lay in the manner of seizing their prey. 
The former skim forward upon it sideways — that is, 
in a horizontal or diagonal direction, and pick it up in 
197 


Ubc ISoung IDo^a^eurs 


passing; while the true falcons — as the merlin, the 
peregrine, the gerfalcon, and the great eagle-falcons — 
shoot down upon their prey perpendicularly like an 
arrow, or a piece of falling lead. 

‘He pointed out, moreover, how the structure of the 
different kinds of preying birds, such as the size and 
form of the wings and tail, as well as other parts, were 
in each kind adapted to its peculiar mode of pursuing 
its prey ; and then there arose a discussion as to 
whether this adaptation should be considered a cause or 
an effect. Lucien succeeded in convincing his compan- 
ions that the structure was the effect and not the cause 
of the habit, for the young naturalist was a firm be- 
liever in the changing and progressive system of natxure. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


AN ODD SORT OF DKCOY-DUCK. 

T WO days after the adventure with the blaireau 
the young voyageurs arrived at Cumberland 
House — one of the most celebrated posts of the Hud- 
son’s Bay Company. The chief factor, who resided 
there, was a friend of Norman’s father, and of course 
the youths were received with the warmest hospitality, 
and entertained during their stay in the best manner 
the place afforded. They did not make a long stay, 
however, as they wished to complete their journey before 
the winter should set in, when canoe-travelling would 
become impossible. During winter, not only the lakes, 
but the most rapid rivers of these Northern regions, 
become frozen up, and remain so for many months. 
Nearly the whole surface of the earth is buried under 
deep snow, and travelling can only be done with snow- 
shoes, or with sledges drawn by dogs. These are the 
modes practised by the Indians, the Esquimaux, and 
the few white traders and trappers who have occasion 
in winter to pass from one point to another of that icy 
and desolate region. 


199 


Ube jgouuG IDo^ageurs 


Travelling under such circumstances is not only- 
difficult and laborious, but is extremely perilous. 
Food cannot always be obtained — supplies fall short, 
or become exhausted — game is scarce, or cannot be 
found at all, as at that season many of the quadrupeds 
and most of the birds have forsaken the country, and 
migrated to the South— and whole parties of travellers 
— even Indians, who can eat anything living or dead, 
roast or raw— often perish from hunger. 

Our travellers were well acquainted with these facts ; 
and being anxious, therefore, to get to the end of their 
journey before the winter should come down upon 
them, made all haste to proceed. Of course they 
obtained a new “outfit*’ at the Fort; but they took 
with them only such articles as were absolutely nec- 
essary, as they had many portages to make before they 
could reach the waters of the Mackenzie River. As it 
required two of the party to carry the canoe, with a 
few little things besides, all the baggage was comprised 
in such loads as the others could manage ; and of 
course that was not a great deal, for Francois was but 
a lad, and Fucien was far from being in robust health. 
A light axe, a few cooking utensils, with a small stock 
of provisions, and of course their guns, formed the bulk 
of their loads. 

After leaving the Fort they kept for several days’ 
journey up the Saskatchewan. They then took leave 
of that river, and ascended a small stream that emptied 


200 


Hn ©bt) Sort of Deco^^Bucft 


into it from the north. Making their first portage ovei 
a “divide,” they reached another small stream that 
ran in quite a different direction, emptying itself into 
one of the branches of the Missinippi, or Churchill 
River. Following this in a north-westerly course, and 
making numerous other portages, they reached Fake 
La Crosse, and afterwards in succession. Lakes Clear, 
Buffalo, and Methy . A long ‘ ‘ portage ’ ’ from the 
last- mentioned lake brought them to the head of a 
stream known as the “ Clear-Water ; ” and launching 
their canoe upon this, they floated down to its mouth, 
and entered the main stream of the Elk, or Athabasca, 
one of the most beautiful rivers of America. They 
were now in reality upon the waters of the Mackenzie 
itself, for the Elk, after passing through the Athabasca 
Lake, takes from thence the name of Slave River, and 
having traversed Great Slave Lake, becomes the Mac- 
kenzie — under which name it continues on to the Arc- 
tic Ocean. Having got, therefore, upon the main 
head-water of the stream which they intended to 
traverse, they floated along in their canoe with light 
hearts and high hopes. It is true they had yet fifteen 
hundred miles to travel, but they believed that it was 
all down-hill work now ; and as they had still nearly 
two months of summer before them, they doubted not 
being able to accomplish the voyage in good time. 

On they floated down stream, feasting their eyes as 
they went — for the scenery of the Elk valley is of a 


201 


Ubc 13oun0 lDo^aGeut0 


most picturesque and pleasing character; and the 
broad bosom of the stream itself, studded with wooded 
islands, looked to our travellers more like a continua- 
tion of lakes than a running river. Now they glided 
along without using an oar, borne onward by the cur- 
rent ; then they would take a spell at the paddles, 
while the beautiful Canadian boat-song could be heard 
as it came from the tiny craft, and the appropriate 
chorus “Row, brothers, row!” echoed from the ad- 
jacent shores. No part of their journey was more 
pleasant than while descending the romantic Elk. 

They found plenty of fresh provisions, both in the 
stream itself and on its banks. They caught salmon 
in the water, and the silver-coloured hyodon, known 
among the voyageurs by the name of “ Dore.” They 
shot both ducks and geese, and roast-duck or goose 
had become an every-day dinner with them. Of the 
geese there were several species. There were “ snow- 
geese,” so called from their beautiful white plumage ; 
and “ laughing geese,” that derive their name from 
the circumstance that their call resembles the laugh 
of a man. The Indians decoy these by striking their 
open hand repeatedly over the mouth while uttering 
the syllable “wah.” They also saw the “Brent 
goose,” a well-known species, and the “Canada 
goose, ’ ’ which is the wild goose par exellence. Another 
species resembling the latter, called the ‘ ‘ barnacle 
goose,” was seen by our travellers. Besides these, 


202 


Hn Sort of Decop=*Duc?? 


I^ucien informed them that there were several other 
smaller kinds that inhabit the northern countries of 
America. These valuable birds are objects of great 
interest to the people of the fur countries for months 
in the year. Whole tribes of Indians look to them as 
a means of support. 

With regard to ducks, there was one species which 
our travellers had not yet met with, and for which 
they were every day upon the look-out. This was the 
far-famed “canvas-back,” so justly celebrated among 
the epicures of America. None of them had ever 
eaten of it, as it is not known in Louisiana, but only 
upon the Atlantic coast of the United States. Nor- 
man, however, had heard of its existence in the Rocky 
Mountains — where it is said to breed — as well as in 
other parts of the fur countries, and they were in hopes 
that they might fall in with it upon the waters of the 
Athabasca. Uucien was, of course, well acquainted 
with its ‘ ‘ biography, ’ ’ and could have recognised one 
at sight ; and as they glided along he volunteered to 
give his companions some information, not only about 
this particular species, but about the whole genus of 
these interesting birds. 

“The canvas-back,” began he, “is perhaps the 
most celebrated and highly -prized of all the ducks, on 
account of the exquisite flavour of its flesh— which is 
thought by some epicures to be superior to that of all 
other birds. It is not a large duck — rarely w'eighing 


203 


Ubc l^ouuG Wopa^eurs 


over three pounds — and its plumage is far from equal- 
ing in beauty that of many other species. It has a 
red or chestnut-coloured head, a shining black breast, 
while the greater part of its body is of a greyish colour ; 
but upon close examination this grey is found to be 
produced by a whitish ground minutely mottled with 
zig-zag black lines. I believe it is this mottling, com- 
bined with the colour, which somewhat resembles the 
appearance and texture of ship’s canvas, that has 
given the bird its trivial name ; but there is some ob- 
scurity about the origin of this. In colour, however, 
it so nearly resembles the ‘ pochard,’ or ‘ red-head ’ of 
Europe, and its near congener the red-head {A, ferind) 
of America, that at a distance it is difficult to dis- 
tinguish them from each other. The last-mentioned 
species is always found associated with the canvas- 
backs, and are even sold for the latter in the markets 
of New York and Philadelphia. A naturalist, how- 
ever, can easily distinguish them by their bills and 
eyes. The canvas-back has red eyes, with a greenish 
black bill, nearly straight ; while the eyes of the red- 
head are of an orange yellow, its bill bluish and con- 
cave along the upper ridge. 

“The canvas- back is known in natural history as 
Anas valisneria, and this specific name is given to it 
because it feeds upon the roots of an aquatic plant, a 
species of ‘ tape-grass,’ or ‘ eel-grass ’ ; but botanically 
called ‘ Valisneria,' after the Italian botanist, Antonio 
204 


Bn ©DD Sort of H)eco\?s=2)ucft 


Valisneri. This grass grows in slow-flowing streams, 
and also on shoals by the seaside — where the water, 
from the influx of rivers, is only brackish. The water 
where it grows is usually three to five feet in depth, 
and the plant itself rises above the surface to the 
height of two feet or more, with grass-like leaves of a 
deep green colour. Its roots are white and succulent, 
and bear some resemblance to celery — hence the plant 
is known among the duck-hunters as ‘wild celery.’ 
It is upon these roots the canvas-back almost exclu- 
sively feeds, and they give to the flesh of these birds 
its peculiar and pleasant flavour. Wherever the valis- 
neria grows in quantity, as in the Chesapeake Bay and 
some rivers, like the Hudson, there the canvas-backs 
resort, and are rarely seen elsewhere. They do not 
eat the leaves but only the white soft roots, which they 
dive for and pluck up with great dexterity. The leaves 
when stripped of the root are suffered to float off upon 
the surface of the water ; and where the ducks have 
been feeding, large quantities of them, under the name 
of ‘grass wrack,’ are thrown by the wind and tide 
upon the adjacent shores. 

“Shooting the canvas-backs is a source of profit to 
hundreds of gunners who live around the Chesapeake 
Bay, as these birds command a high price in the mar- 
kets of the American cities. Disputes have arisen be- 
tween the fowlers of different States around the Bay 
about the right of shooting upon it ; and vessels full 
205 


XTbe l^ouno IDoyaoeurs 


of armed men — ready to make war upon one another — 
have gone out on this account. But the government 
of these States succeeded in settling the matter peace- 
fully, and to the satisfaction of all parties.” 

The canoe at this moment shot round a bend, and a 
long smooth expanse of the river appeared before the 
eyes of our voyageurs. They could see that upon one 
side another stream ran in, with a very sluggish cur- 
rent ; and around the mouth of this, and for a good 
stretch below it, there appeared a green sedge-like 
water-grass, or rushes. Near the border of this sedge, 
and in a part of it that w^as thin, a flock of wild fowl 
was diving and feeding. They were small, and evi- 
dently ducks ; but the distance was yet too great for 
the boys to make out to what species they belonged. 
A single large swan — a trumpeter — was upon the water, 
between the shore and the ducks, and was gradually 
making towards the latter. Francois immediately 
loaded one of his barrels with swan, or rather ” buck ” 
shot, and Basil looked to his rifle. The ducks were 
not thought of— the trumpeter was to be the game. 
Tucien took out his telescope, and commenced observ- 
ing the flock. They had not intended to use any pre- 
caution in approaching the birds, as they were not 
extremely anxious about getting a shot, and were per- 
mitting the canoe to glide gently towards them. An 
exclamation from Tucien, however, caused them to 
change their tactics. He directed them suddenly to 
206 


Hn Sort of Beco^^Duck 


“hold water” and stop the canoe, at the same time 
telling them that the birds a-head were the very sort 
about which they had been conversing — the ‘ ‘ canvas- 
backs.” He had no doubt of it, judging from their 
colour, size, and peculiar movements. 

The announcement produced a new excitement. 
All four were desirous not only of shooting, but of 
eating, a canvas-back ; and arrangements were set 
about to effect the former. It was known to all that 
the canvas-backs are among the shyest of water- fowl, 
so much so that it is difficult to approach them unless 
under cover. While feeding, it is said, they keep 
sentinels on the look-out. Whether this be true or 
not, it is certain that they never all dive together, 
some always remaining above water, and apparently 
watching while the others are under. A plan to get 
near them was necessary, and one was suggested by 
Norman, which was to tie bushes around the sides of 
the canoe, so as to hide both the vessel and those in it. 
This plan was at once adopted — the canoe was paddled 
up to the bank — thick bushes were cut, and tied along 
the gunwale ; and then our voyageurs climbed in, and 
laying themselves as low as possible, commenced pad- 
dling gently downward in the direction of the ducks. 
The rifles were laid aside, as they could be of little 
service with such game. Francois’ double-barrel was 
the arm upon which dependence was now placed ; and 
Francois himself leaned forward in the bow in order 
207 


Zbc IffouTtG Do^aoeurs 


to be ready, while the others attended to the guidance 
of the vessel. The buck-shot had been drawn out, 
and a smaller kind substituted. The swan was no 
longer cared for or even thought of. 

In about a quarter of an hour’s time, the canoe, 
gliding silently along the edge of the sedge— which 
was the wild celery ( Valisneria spiralis ) — came near 
the place where the ducks were ; and the boys, peeping 
through the leafy screen, could now see the birds 
plainly. They saw that they were not all canvas- 
backs, but that three distinct kinds of ducks were 
feeding together. One sort was the canvas-backs 
themselves, and a second kind very much resembled 
them, except that they were a size smaller. These 
were the “red-heads” or “pochards.” The third 
species was different from either. They had also heads 
of a reddish colour, but of a brighter red, and marked 
by a white band that ran from the root of the bill over 
the crown. This mark enabled Lucien at once to tell 
the species. They were widgeons (A. Americana) ; 
but the most singular thing that was now observed by 
our voyageurs was the terms upon which these three 
kinds of birds lived with each other. It appeared 
that the widgeon obtained its food by a regular system 
of robbery and plunder perpetrated upon the com- 
munity of the canvas-backs. The latter, as Tucien 
had said, feeds upon the roots of the valisneria ; but 
for these it is obliged to dive to the depth of four or 
208 


Hn Sort of S)eco^s=DucI? 


five feet, and also to spend some time at the bottom 
while plucking them up. Now the widgeon is as fond 
of the “ celery ” as the canvas-back, but the former 
is not a diver — in fact, never goes under water except 
when washing itself or in play, and it has therefore 
no means of procuring the desired roots. Mark, then, 
the plan that it takes to effect this end. Seated as 
near as is safe to the canvas-back, it waits until the 
latter makes his somersault and goes down. It (the 
widgeon) then darts forward so as to be sufficiently 
close, and, pausing again, scans the surface with eager 
eye. It can tell where the other is at work, as the 
blades of the plant at which it is tugging are seen to 
move above the water. These at length disappear, 
pulled down as the plant is dragged from its root, and 
almost at the same instant the canvas-back comes up 
holding the root between his mandibles. But the 
widgeon is ready for him. He has calculated the 
exact spot where the other will rise ; and, before the 
latter can open his eyes or get them clear of the water, 
the widgeon darts forward, snatches the luscious morsel 
from his bill, and makes off with it. Conflicts some- 
times ensue ; but the widgeon, knowing himself to be 
the lesser and w^eaker bird, never stands to give battle, 
but secures his prize through his superior agility. On 
the other hand, the canvas-back rarely attempts to 
follow him, as he knows that the other is swifter upon 

the water than he. He only looks after his lost root 
14 


209 


Ube ^omQ Dopaoeurs 


with an air of chagrin, and then, reflecting that there 
is “plenty more where it came from,” kicks up his 
heels, and once more plunges to the bottom. 

The red-head rarely interferes with either, as he is 
contented to feed upon the leaves and stalks, at all 
times floating in plenty upon the surface. 

As the canoe glided near, those on board watched 
these curious manoeuvres of the birds with feelings of 
interest. They saw, moreover, that the “ trumpeter” 
had arrived among them, and the ducks seemed to 
take no notice of him. Tucien was struck with some- 
thing unusual in the appearance of the swan. Its 
plumage seemed ruffled and on end, and it glided along 
in a stiff and unnatural manner. It moved its neck 
neither to one side nor the other, but held its head 
bent forward, until its bill almost touched the water, 
in the attitude that these birds adopt when feeding 
upon something near the surface. Tucien said nothing 
to his companions, as they were all silent, lest they 
might frighten the ducks ; but Basil and Norman had 
also remarked the strange look and conduct of the 
trumpeter. Francois’ eyes were bent only upon the 
ducks, and he did not heed the other. 

As they came closer, first Tucien, and then Basil 
and Norman, saw something else that puzzled them. 
Whenever the swan approached any of the ducks, 
these were observed to disappear under the water. 
At first the boys thought that they merely dived to 


210 


Hu Sort of Beco^sDiich 


get out of his way, but it was not exactly in the same 
manner as the others were diving for the roots. More- 
over, none of those that went down in the neighbour- 
hood of the swan were seen to come up again ! 

There was something very odd in all this, and the 
three boys, thinking so at the same time, were about 
to communicate their thoughts to one another, when 
the double crack of Frangois’ gun drove the thing, 
for a moment, out of their heads ; and they all looked 
over the bushes to see how many canvas-backs had 
been killed. Several were seen dead or fluttering 
along the surface; but no one counted them, for a 
strange, and even terrible, object now presented itself 
to the astonished senses of all. If the conduct of the 
swan had been odd before, it was now doubly so. 
Instead of flying off after the shot, as all expected it 
would do, it was now seen to dance and plunge about 
on the water, uttering loud screams, that resembled 
the human voice far more than any other sounds ! 
Then it rose as if pitched into the air, and fell on its 
back some distance off ; while in its place was seen a 
dark round object moving through the water, as if 
making for the bank, and uttering, as it went, the 
same hideous human-like screams ! 

This dark object was no other than the poll of a 
human being ; and the river shallowing towards the 
bank, it rose higher and higher above the water, until 
the boys could distinguish the glistening neck and 

2II 


Ubc Iffoung IDo^aGCurs 


naked shoulders of a red and brawny Indian ! All 
was now explained. The Indian had been duck- 
hunting, and had used the stuffed skin of the swan 
as his disguise ; and hence the puzzling motions of 
the bird. He had not noticed the canoe— concealed 
as it was — until the loud crack of Francois’ gun had 
startled him from his work. This, and the heads and 
white faces of the boys peeping over the bushes, had 
frightened him, even more than he had them. Per- 
haps they were the first white faces he had ever seen. 
But, whether or not, sadly frightened he was ; for, 
on reaching the bank, he did not stop, but ran off 
into the woods, howling and yelling as if Old Nick 
had been after him : and no doubt he believed that 
such was the case. 

The travellers picked up the swan-skin out of 
curiosity ; and, in addition to the ducks which Francois 
had killed, they found nearly a score of these birds, 
which the Indian had dropped in his fright, and that 
had afterwards risen to the surface. These were strung 
together, and all had their necks broken. 

After getting them aboard, the canoe was cleared 
of the bushes ; and the paddles being once more 
called into service, the little craft shot down stream 
like an arrow. 


212 


CHAPTER XX. 


the; ducks of amfrica. 

L UCIKN now continued his “monograph” of the 
American ducks. 

“ There are,” said he “ more than two dozen species 
of ducks on the waters of North America. These the 
systematists have divided into no less than eighteen 
genera ! Why it would be more easy to learn all that 
ever was known about all the ducks in creation, than 
to remember the eighteen generic names which these 
gentlemen have invented and put forward. Moreover, 
the habits of any two species of these ducks are more 
similar than those of any two kinds of dogs. Why 
then, I should ask — why this complication ? It is true 
that the ducks do not resemble each other in every 
thing. Some species are fonder of the water than 
others. Some feed entirely upon vegetable substances ; 
others upon small fish, insects, Crustacea, etc. Some 
live entirely in the sea ; others make their home in 
the fresh-water lakes and rivers, while many species 
dwell indifferently, either in salt or fresh waters. 
Some love the open wave ; others the sedgy marsh ; 
213 


Zbc l^ouuG tDo^a^eura 


while one or two species roost upon trees, and build 
their nests in the hollow trunks. Notwithstanding all 
this, there is such a similarity in the appearance and 
habits of the different species, that I think the systema- 
tists have improved but little, if anything, upon the 
simple arrangement of the true naturalist Wilson, who 
— poor Scotch imigri as he was, with an empty purse 
and a loaded gun — has collected more original informa- 
tion about the birds of America than all that have 
followed him. He described the ducks of America 
under the single genus Anas ; and, in my opinion, 
described them in a more intelligent and intelligible 
manner than any one has done since his time — not 
even excepting another great and true naturalist, 
whose career has been longer, more successful, and hap- 
pier ; and whose fame, in consequence of his better for- 
tune, has become, perhaps, higher and more extended. 

“The water- fowl of America,” continued Tucien — 
‘ ‘ I mean the swans, geese, and ducks — are of great 
importance in the fur countries where we are now 
travelling. At certain seasons of the year, in many 
parts, they furnish almost the only article of food that 
can be procured. They are all migratory — that is, 
when the lakes and rivers of these regions become 
frozen over in the winter they all migrate southward, 
but return again to breed and spend the summer. 
They do this, perhaps, because these wild territories 
afford them a better security during the season of incu- 
214 


Ubc Bucfes of Hmerica 


bation, and afterwards of moulting. It is not very cer- 
tain, however, that this is the reason, and for my part 
I am inclined to think not, for there are also wild, 
uninhabited territories enough in southern latitudes, 
and yet they forsake these and migrate north in the 
spring. ‘ Their arrival in the fur countries, ’ writes a 
distinguished naturalist, ‘ marks the commencement of 
spring, and diffuses as much joy among the wandering 
hunters of the Arctic regions, as the harvest or vintage 
excites in more genial climes.’ Both by the Indians 
and hunters in the employ of the Hudson’s Bay Com- 
pany swans, geese, and ducks, are slaughtered by 
thousands, and are eaten not only when fresh killed, 
but they are salted in large quantities, and so preserved 
for winter use, when fresh ones can no longer be pro- 
cured. Of course, both Indian and white hunters use 
all their art in killing or capturing them ; and to effect 
this they employ many different methods, as decoying, 
snaring, netting, and shooting them : but Cousin Nor- 
man here could give a better description of all these 
things than I. Perhaps he will favour us with some 
account of them.” 

“The Indians,” said the young trader, taking up 
the subject without hesitation, “usually snare them. 
Their most common way is to make a number of hedges 
or wattle fences projecting into the water at right 
angles to the edge of the lake, or, it may be, river. 
These fences are two or three yards apart, and between 
215 


TLbc igoun^ IDo^aoeurs 


each two there is, of course, an opening, into which 
the birds swim, as they make towards the shore for 
their food. In these openings, then, the snares are set 
and tied so firmly to a post stuck in the bottom, . 
the birds, whether ducks, geese, or swans, when mgi 
may not be able to drag it away. To keep ^ snare 
in its place, it is secured to the wattles of the fenr<^ 
with tender strands of grass, that of course give way 
the moment the fowl becomes entangled. The snares 
are made out of deer sinews, twisted like packthread, 
and sometimes of thongs cut from a ‘ parchment ’ deer- 
skin, which, as you know, is a deerskin simply dried, 
and not tanned or dressed. The making of the fences 
is the part that gives most trouble. Sometimes the 
timber for the stakes is not easily had ; and even when 
it is plenty, it is no easy matter to drive the stakes into 
the bottom and wattle them, while seated in a vessel 
so crank as a birch canoe. Sometimes, in the rivers 
where the water-fowl most frequent, the current is 
swift, and adds to this trouble. Where the lakes and 
rivers are shallow, the thing becomes easier; and I 
have seen small lakes and rivers fenced in this way 
from shore to shore. In large lakes this would not be 
necessary, as most of the water-birds — such as the 
swans and geese — and all the ducks that are not of the 
diving kinds, are sure to come to the shore to feed, and 
are more likely to be taken close in to land than out 
in the open water. 


216 


Ube Ducbs of Hmertca 


“ The Indians often snare these birds upon the nest, 
and they always wash their hands before setting the 
snare. They have a notion — I don’t know whether 
true or not — that if their hands are not clean, the birds 
can smell the snare, and will be shy of going into it. 
They say that all these birds — and I believe it ’s true 
of all fowls that make their nests upon the ground— go 
into the nest at one side, and out at the opposite. The 
Indians knowing this, always set their snares at the 
side where the bird enters, and b}^ this they are more 
sure of catching them, and also of getting them some 
hours sooner. 

“Besides snaring the water-fowl,” continued Nor- 
man, “ the Indians sometimes catch them in nets, and 
sometimes on hooks baited with whatever the birds 
are known to eat. They also shoot them as the white 
hunters do, and to get near enough use every sort of 
cunning that can be thought of. Sometimes they 
decoy them within shot, by putting wooden ducks on 
the water near their cover, where they themselves are 
stationed. Sometimes they disguise their canoes under 
brushwood, and paddle to the edge of the flock ; and 
when the moulting season comes round, they pursue 
them through the water, and kill them with sticks. 
The swans, when followed in this way, often escape. 
With their strong wings and great webbed feet, they 
can flap faster over the surface than a canoe can fol- 
low them. I have heard of many other tricks which 
217 


XTbe ^owm IDopaoeurs 


the Indians of different tribes make use of, but I have 
only seen these ways I have described, besides the one 
we have just witnessed.” 

Norman was one of your practical philosophers, who 
did not choose to talk much of things with which he 
was not thoroughly acquainted. v 

I^ucien now took up the thread of the conversation, 
and gave some further information about the different 
species of American ducks. 

“One of the most celebrated,” said he, “is the 
‘ eider-duck ’ (Anas mollissima). This is prized for its 
down, which is exceedingly soft and fine, and esteemed 
of great value for lining quilts and making beds for 
the over-luxurious. It is said that three pounds’ 
weight of ‘ eider-down ’ can be compressed to the size 
of a man’s fist, and yet is afterwards so dilatable as to 
fill a quilt of five feet square. The down is generally 
obtained without killing the bird, for that which is 
plucked from dead birds is far inferior, and has lost 
much of its elasticity. The mode of procuring it is to 
steal it from the nest, in the absence of the birds. The 
female lines the nest with down plucked from her own 
breast. When this is stolen from her, by those who 
gather the commodity, she plucks out a second crop 
of it, and arranges it as before. This being also 
removed, it is said that the male bird then makes a 
sacrifice of his down}^ waistcoat, and the nest is once 
more put in order ; but should this too be taken, the 
218 


XTbe Ducks of Hmedca 


birds forsake their nest never to return to it again. 
The quantity of eider-down found in a single nest is 
sufficient to fill a man’s hat, and yet it will weigh 
only about three ounces. 

“The eider-duck is about the size of the common 
mallard, or wild duck proper. Its colour is black be- 
low, and buff- white on the back, neck, and shoulders, 
while the forehead is bluish black. It is one of the 
“ sea-ducks,” or fuligulcB, as the naturalists term them, 
and it is rarely seen in fresh water. Its food is prin- 
cipally the soft mollusca common in the Arctic seas, 
and its flesh is not esteemed except by the Green- 
landers. It is at home only in the higher latitudes of 
both Continents, and loves to dwell upon the rocky 
shores of the sea ; but in very severe winters, it makes 
its appearance along the Atlantic coast of the United 
States, where it receives different names from the 
gunners — such as ‘black-and-white coot,’ ‘big sea- 
duck,’ ‘shoal-duck,’ and ‘squaw-duck’; and under 
these titles it is often sold in the markets of American 
cities. Some suppose that the eider-duck could be 
easily domesticated. If so, it would, no doubt, prove 
a profitable as well as an interesting experiment ; but 
I believe it has already been attempted without suc- 
cess. It is in the countries of Northern Europe where 
the gathering of the eider-down has been made an object 
of industry. On the American Continent the pursuit 
is not followed, either by the native or white settler. 

219 


XTbe ^omQ IDo^aoeurs 


“Another species common to the higher latitudes 
of both Continents is the ‘ king-duck, ’ so called from 
its very showy appearance. Its habits are very similar 
to the ‘ eider, ’ and its down is equally soft and valu- 
able, but it is a smaller bird. 

“ A still smaller species, also noted for its brilliant 
plumage, inhabits the extreme north of both continents. 
This is the ‘ harlequin-duck ’ ; or, as the early colonists 
term it, the ‘ lord. ’ 

“ But the ‘ wood-duck ’ (Anas sponsa) is perhaps the 
most beautiful of all the American species, or indeed of 
all ducks whatever — although it has a rival in the 
mandarin duck of China, which indeed it very much 
resembles both in size and markings. The wood-duck 
is so called from the fact of its making its nest in hol- 
low trees, and roosting occasionally on the branches. 
It is a fresh-water duck, and a Southern species — never 
being seen in very high latitudes ; nor is it known in 
Europe in a wild state, but is peculiar to the Continent 
of America. It is one of the easiest species to domesti- 
cate, and no zoological garden is now without it ; in 
all of which its small size — being about that of a widg- 
eon — its active movements and innocent look, its musi- 
cal peep-peep^ and, above all, its beautiful plumage, 
make it a general favourite. 

‘ ‘ Besides these, there are many others of the Amer- 
ican ducks, whose description would interest you, 
but you would grow tired were I to give a detailed 


220 


Ubc Ducfts of Hmertca 


account of them all ; so I shall only mention a few 
that are distinguished by well-known peculiarities. 
There is the ‘whistler’ (A. clangula), which takes its 
trivial name from the whistling sound of its wings 
while in flight ; and the ‘ shoveller, ’ so called from the 
form of its bill ; and the ‘ conjuring,’ or ‘ spirit ’ ducks 
of the Indians (Anas vulgaris and albeola), because 
they dive so quickly and dexterously, that it is almost 
impossible to shoot them either with bow or gun. 
There is the ‘ old wife, ’or ‘ old squaw ’ (Anas glacialis'), 
so called from its incessant cackle, which the hunters 
liken to the scolding of an ill-tempered old wife. This 
species is the most noisy of all the duck tribe, and is 
called by the voyageurs ‘caeca wee,’ from its fancied 
utterance of these syllables ; and the sound, so often 
heard in the long nights of the fur countries, has been 
woven into and forms the burden of many a voyageur’s 
song. In some parts of the United States the cacca- 
wee is called ‘south-southerly,’ as its voice is there 
thought to resemble this phrase, while at the time 
when most heard — the autumn — these ducks are ob- 
served flying in a southerly direction. 

“ Besides these,” continued Lucien, ‘ ‘ there are the 
teals — blue and green-winged — and the coots, and the 
widgeon — slightly differing from the widgeon of Eu- 
rope — and there is the rare and beautiful little ruddy 
duck (A. rubida), with its bright mahogany colour — 
its long upright tail and short neck— that at a distance 


221 


XTbe ^onm IDo^a^eurs 


give it the appearance of a duck with two heads. And 
there is the well-known ‘pin-tail,’ and the ‘pochard,’ 
or ‘red-head’ ; and the ‘mallard,’ from which comes 
the common domestic variety, and the ‘scoter,’ and 
‘surf,’ and ‘velvet,’ and ‘dusky,’ ducks — these last 
four being all, more or less, of a dark colour. And 
there are the ‘ shell- drakes,’ or ‘fishers,’ that swim 
low in the water, dive and fly well, but walk badly, 
and feed altogether on fish. These, on account of their 
toothed bills, form a genus of themselves — the ‘ mer- 
gansers,’ — and four distinct species of them are known 
in America.” 

The approach of night, and the necessity of land- 
ing, to make their night camp, brought Tucien’s lec- 
ture to a close. Indeed Frangois was glad when it 
ended, for he was beginning to think it somewhat 
tedious. 


222 


CHAPTER XXI. 


THBJ SHRIKE AND THE HUMMING-BIRDS. 

T he picturesque scenery of the Elk appeared to 
be a favourite resort with the feathered crea- 
tion. Here our voyageurs saw many kinds of birds ; 
both those that migrate into the fur countries during 
summer, and those that make their home there in the 
cold, dark days of winter. Among the former were 
observed, — the beautiful blue bird of Wilson {Sialia 
Wilsoni ) which, on account of its gentle and innocent 
habits, is quite as much esteemed in America as the 
“ robin ” in England. Another favourite of the farmer 
and the homestead, the purple martin, was seen grace- 
fully wheeling through the air ; while, among the 
green leaves, fluttered many brilliant birds. The 
‘ ‘ cardinal grosbeak ’ ’ {Pitylus cardinalis) with his 
bright scarlet wings ; the blue jay, noisy and chatter- 
ing ; the rarer “ crossbill ” {Loxid) with its deep crim- 
son colour ; and many others, equally bright and 
beautiful, enlivened the woods, either with their voice 
or their gaudy plumage. There was one bird, how- 
ever, that had neither “fine feathers” nor an agree- 
223 


Ubc l^ourtG IDo^aoeurs 


able voice, but that interested our travellers more than 
any of the others. Its voice was unpleasant to the 
ear, and sounded more like the grating of a rusty 
hinge than anything else they could think of. The 
bird itself was not larger than a thrush, of a light 
grey colour above, white underneath, and with blackish 
wings. Its bill resembled that of the hawks, but its 
legs were more like those of the woodpecker tribe ; 
and it seemed, in fact, to be a cross between the two. 
It was neither the colour of the bird, nor its form, nor 
yet its song, that interested our travellers, but its 
singular habits ; and these they had a fine opportunity 
of observing at one of their “noon-camps,” where 
they had halted to rest and refresh themselves during 
the hot mid-day hours. The place was on one of the 
little islets, which was covered with underwood, with 
here and there some larger trees. The underwood 
bushes were of various sorts ; but close to the spot 
where they had landed was a large thicket of honey- 
suckle, whose flowers were in full bloom, and filled the 
air with their sweet perfume. 

While seated near these, Frangois’ quick eye detected 
the presence of some very small birds moving among 
the blossoms. They were at once pronounced to be 
humming-birds, and of that species known as the 
“ ruby -throats ” (TrocMus colubris), so called, because 
a flake of a beautiful vinous colour under the throat of 
the males exhibits, in the sun, all the glancing glories 


224 


XTbe Sbrtbe anb tbe 1bumming*=Birb0 


of the ruby. The back, or upper parts, are of a gilded 
green colour; and the little creature is the smallest 
bird that migrates into the fur co^tntries, with one 
exception, and that is a bird of the same genus — the 
“cinnamon humming-bird” {Trochilus rufus). The 
latter, however, has been seen in the Northern regions, 
only on the western side of the Rocky Mountains ; but 
then it has been observed even as far north as the bleak 
and inhospitable shores of Nootka Sound. Mexico, 
and the tropical countries of America, are the favour- 
ite home of the humming-birds ; and it was, for a long 
time, supposed that the ‘ ‘ ruby- throats ’ ’ were the only 
ones that migrated farther north than the territory 
of Mexico itself. It is now known that, besides 
the ‘ ‘ cinnamon humming-bird, ’ ’ two or three other 
species annually make an excursion into higher 
latitudes. 

The “ruby-throats” not only travel into the fur 
countries, but breed in numbers upon the Klk River, 
the very place where our travellers now observed 
them. 

As they sat watching these little creatures, for there 
were several of them skipping about and poising them- 
selves opposite the flowers, the attention of all was 
attracted to the movements of a far different sort of 
bird. It was that one we have been speaking of. It 
was seated upon a tree, not far from the honeysuckles ; 
but every now and then it would spring from its perch. 


XTbe l^oung IDopa^eurs 


dash forward, and after whirring about for some mo- 
ments among the humming-birds, fly back to the same 
tree. 

At first the boys watched these manoeuvres without 
having their curiosity excited. It was no new thing 
to see birds acting in this manner. The jays, and many 
other birds of the fly-catching kind {MuscicapcB)^ have 
this habit, and nothing was thought of it at the mo- 
ment. lyUcien, however, who had watched the bird 
more narrowly, presently declared to the rest that it 
was catching the humming-birds, and preying upon 
them — that each time it made a dash among the honey- 
suckles, it carried off one in its claws, the smallness of 
the victim having prevented them at first from noticing 
this fact. They all now watched it more closely than 
before, and were soon satisfied of the truth of Tucien’s 
assertion, as they saw it seize one of the ruby-throats 
in the very act of entering the corolla of a flower. 
This excited the indignation of Frangois, who imme- 
diately took up his “double-barrel,” and proceeded 
towards the tree where the bird, as before, had carried 
his last victim. The tree was a low one, of the locust 
or pseud-acacia family, and covered all over with great 
thorny spikes, like all trees of that tribe. Francois 
paid no attention to this ; but, keeping under shelter 
of the underwood, he crept forward until within shot. 
Then raising his gun, he took aim, and pulling trigger, 


226 


XTbe Sbrtbe anb tbe 1bumming=3Btrb6 


brought the bird fluttering down through the branches. 
He stepped forward and picked it up — not that he 
cared for such unworthy game, but I^ucien had called 
to him to do so, as the naturalist wished to make an 
examination of the creature. He was about turning 
to go back to camp, when he chanced to glance his eye 
up into the locust-tree. There it was riveted by a sight 
which caused him to cry out with astonishment. His 
cry brought the rest running up to the spot, and they 
were not less astonished than he, when they saw the 
cause of it. I have said that the branches of the tree 
were covered with long thorny spikes that pointed in 
every direction ; but one branch in particular occupied 
their attention. Upon this there were about a dozen 
of these spines pointing upward, and upon each spike 
was impaled a ruby-throat ! The little creatures were 
dead, of course, but they were neither torn nor even 
much ruffled in their plumage. They were all placed 
back upwards, and as neatly spitted upon the thorns 
as if they had been put there by human hands. On 
looking more closely, it was discovered that other 
creatures, as well as the humming-birds, had been 
served in a similar manner. Several grasshoppers, 
spiders, and some coleopterous insects were found, and 
upon another branch two small meadow-mice {Arvicolce) 
had been treated to the same terrible death ! 

To Basil, Norman, and Francois, the thing was quite 


227 


XTbe ISouTtQ Dopacjeurs 


inexplicable, but Lucien understood well enough what 
it meant. All these creatures, he informed them, were 
placed there by the bird which Francois had shot, 
and which was no other than the “shrike” {Lanius) 
or “butcher-bird” — a name by which it is more fa- 
miliarly known, and which it receives from the very 
habit they had just observed. Why it follows such a 
practice Lucien could not tell, as naturalists are not 
agreed upon this point. Some have asserted that it 
spits the spiders and other insects for the purpose of 
attracting nearer the small birds upon which it preys ; 
but this cannot be true, for it preys mostly upon birds 
that are not insect-eaters, as the finches : besides, it is 
itself as fond of eating grasshoppers as anything else, 
and consumes large quantities of these insects. The 
most probable explanation of the singular and appar- 
ently cruel habit of the butcher-bird is, that it merely 
places its victims upon the thorns, in order to keep 
them safe from ground-ants, rats, mice, raccoons, 
foxes, and other preying creatures — just as a good 
cook would hang up her meat or game in the larder 
to prevent the cats from carrying it off. The thorny 
tree thus becomes the storehouse of the shrike, where 
he hangs up his superfluous spoil for future use, just 
as the crows, magpies, and jays, make their secret 
deposits in chinks of walls and the hollows of trees. 
It is no argument against this theory, that the shrike 
sometimes leaves these stores without returning to 
228 


tibe Sbrifte anb tbe 1bummin9=aSirbs 


them. The fox and dog, as well as many other prey- 
ing creatures, have the same habit. 

Wondering at what they had seen, the voyageurs 
returned to their camp, and once more embarked on 
their journey. 


229 


CHAPTER XXII. 


the; fish-hawk. 


FEW days after, another incident occurred to 



our voyageurs, which illustrated the habits of 


a very interesting bird, the “osprey,” or fish-hawk, 
as it is more familiarly known in America. 

The osprey (Falco halicetus) is a bird of the falcon 
tribe, and one of the largest of the genus — measuring 
two feet from bill to tail, with an immense spread of 
wing in proportion, being nearly six feet from tip to tip. 
It is of a dark brown colour above, that colour peculiar 
to most of the hawk tribe, while its lower parts are 
ashy white. Its legs and bill are blue, and its eyes 
of a yellow orange. It is found in nearly all parts of 
America, where there are waters containing fish, for 
on these it exclusively feeds. It is more common on 
the sea-coast than in the interior, although it also fre- 
quents the large lakes, and lives in the central parts of 
the continent during summer, when these are no longer 
frozen over. It is not often seen upon muddy rivers, 
as there it would stand no chance of espying its victims 
in the water. It is a migratory bird, seeking the South 


Ube jfisbs^lFDawb 


in winter, and especially the shores of the Great Mexi- 
can Gulf, where large numbers are often seen fishing 
together. In the spring season these birds move to 
the northward, and make their appearance along the 
Atlantic coast of the continent, where they diffuse joy 
into the hearts of the fishermen — because the latter 
know, on seeing them, that they may soon expect the 
large shoals of herring, shad, and other fish, for which 
they have been anxiously looking out. So great 
favourites are they with the fishermen, that they would 
not knowingly kill an osprey for a boat-load of fish, 
but regard these bold fishing birds in the light of 
“professional brethren.” In this case the old adage 
that ‘ ‘ two of a trade never agree ’ ’ is clearly contra- 
dicted. The farmer often takes up his gun to fire at 
the osprey — mistaking it for the red-tailed buzzard 
{Buteo borealis) or some other hawk, several species of 
which at a distance it resembles — but, on discovering his 
mistake, brings down his piece without pulling trigger, 
and lets the osprey fly off unharmed. This singular 
conduct on the part of the farmer arises from his knowl- 
edge of the fact, that the osprey will not only not kill any 
of his ducks or hens, but that where he makes a settle- 
ment he will drive off from the premises all the hawks, 
buzzards, and kites, that would otherwise prey upon the 
poultry. With such protection, therefore, the osprey 
is one of the securest birds in America. He may breed 
in a tree over the farmer’s or fisherman’s door without 


Ubc l^ouriG IDo^a^eurs 


the slightest danger of being disturbed in his incuba- 
tion. I say Ms incubation ; but the male takes no 
part in this domestic duty, further than to supply his 
loved mate with plenty of fish while she does the 
hatching business. Of course, thus protected, the 
osprey is not a rare bird. On the contrary, fish-hawks 
are more numerous than perhaps any other species of 
the hawk tribe. Twenty or thirty nests may be seen 
near each other in the same piece of woods, and as 
many as three hundred have been counted on one little , 
island. The nests are built upon large trees — not 
always at the tops, as those of rooks, but often in forks 
within twenty feet of the ground. They are composed 
of large sticks, with stalks of corn, weeds, pieces of wet 
turf, and then lined plentifully with dry sea-grass, or 
any other grass that may be most convenient. The 
whole nest is big enough to make a load for a cart, and 
would be heavy enough to give any horse a good pull. 

It can be seen, when the woods are open, to an im- 
mense distance, and the more easily, as the tree upon 
which it is built is always a “ dead wood,” and there- 
fore without leaves to conceal it. Some say that the 
birds select a dead or decaying tree for their nest. It 
is more probable such is the effect, and not the cause, 
of their building upon a particular tree. It is more 
likely that the tree is killed partly by the mass of rub- 
bish thus piled upon it, and partly by the nature of 
the substances, such as sea-weed in the nest, the oil 


232 


Ube ffisbs=1bawb 


of the fish, the excrement of the birds themselves, and 
the dead fish that have been dropped about the root, 
and suffered to remain there ; for when the osprey lets 
fall his finny prey, which he often does, he never con- 
descends to pick it up again, but goes in search of 
another. Boys ‘ ‘ a-nesting ’ ’ might easily discover 
the nest of the osprey ; but were they inclined to de- 
spoil it of its three or four eggs (which are about the 
size of a duck’s, and blotched with Spanish brown), 
they would find that a less easy task, for the owners 
would be very likely to claw their eyes out, or else 
scratch the tender skin from their beardless cheeks : so 
that boys do not often trouble the nest of the osprey. 
A very curious anecdote is related of a negro having 
climbed up to plunder a nest of these birds. The 
negro’s head was covered with a close nap of his own 
black wool, which is supposed by a certain stretch of 
fancy to have the peculiarity of “growing in at both 
ends.” The negro, having no other protection than 
that which his thick fur afforded him, was assailed by 
both the owners of the nest, one of which, making a 
dash at the “ darkie’s ” head, struck his talons so 
firmly into the wool, that he was unable to extricate 
them, and there stuck fast, until the astonished plun- 
derer had reached the foot of the tree. We shall not 
answer for the truthfulness of this anecdote, although 
there is nothing improbable about it ; for certain it is 
that these birds defend their nests with courage and 


233 


Ube ^owm IDo^ageuts 


fury, and we know of more than one instance of per- 
sons being severely wounded who made the attempt to 
rob them. 

The ospreys, as already stated, feed exclusively on 
fish. They are not known to prey upon birds or quad- 
rupeds of any kind, even when deprived of their cus- 
tomary food, as they sometimes are for days, on account 
of the lakes and rivers, in which they expected to find 
it, being frozen over to a later season than usual. 
Other birds, as the purple grakles, often build among 
the sticks of the osprey’s nest, and rear their young 
without being meddled with by this generous bird. 
This is an important point of difference between the 
osprey and other kinds of hawks ; and there is a 
peculiarity of structure about the feet and legs of the 
osprey, that points to the nature of his food and his 
mode of procuring it. His legs are disproportionately 
long and strong. They are without feathers nearly to 
the knees. The feet and toes are also very long, and 
the soles are covered with thick, hard scales, like the 
teeth of a rasp, which enable the bird to hold securely 
his slippery prey. The claws, too, are long, and curved 
into semicircles, with points upon them almost as sharp 
as needles. 

I have stated that an incident occurred to our party 
that illustrated some of the habits of this interesting 
bird. It was upon the afternoon of a Saturday, after 
they had fixed their camp to remain for the following 
234 


XTbe 3Fisb=1bavvb 


day. They had landed upon a point or promontory 
that ran out into the river, and from which they com- 
manded a view of a fine stretch of water. Near where 
they had placed their tent was the nest of an osprey, in 
the forks of a large poplar. The tree, as usual, was 
dead, and the young were plainly visible over the edge 
of the nest. They appeared to be full-grown and 
feathered ; but it is a peculiarity of the young ospreys 
that they will remain in the nest, and be fed by the 
parent birds, until long after they might be considered 
able to shift for themselves. It is even asserted that 
the latter become impatient at length, and drive the 
young ones out of the nest by beating them with their 
wings ; but that for a considerable time afterwards they 
continue to feed them — most likely until the young 
birds learn to capture their finny prey for themselves. 

This Tucien gave as a popular statement, but did not 
vouch for its truth. It was not long, however, before 
both he and his companions witnessed its complete 
verification. 

The old birds, after the arrival of the voyageurs upon 
the promontory, had remained for some time around 
the nest, and at intervals had shot down to where the 
party was, uttering loud screams, and making the air 
whizz with the strokes of their wings. Seeing that 
there was no intention of disturbing them, they at 
length desisted from these demonstrations, and sat for 
a good while quietly upon the edge of their nest. 
235 


XTbe ^oixm IDopaaeurs 


Then first one, and shortly after the other, flew out, 
and commenced sailing in circles, at the height of an 
hundred feet or so above the water. Nothing could be 
more graceful than their flight. Now they would poise 
themselves a moment in the air, then turn their bodies 
as if on a pivot, and glide off in another direction. 
All these motions were carried on with the most perfect 
ease, and as if without the slightest aid from the wings. 
Again they would come to a pause, holding themselves 
fixed in mid-air by a gentle flapping, and appearing to 
scrutinise some object below. Perhaps it was a fish ; 
but it was either too large a one, or not the species 
most relished, or maybe it had sunk to too great a depth 
to be easily taken. Again they sail around ; one of 
them suddenly arrests its flight, and, like a stone pro- 
jected from a sling, shoots down to the water. Before 
reaching the surface, however, the fish, whose quick 
eye has detected the coming enemy, has gone to the 
dark bottom, and concealed himself; and the ospre)", 
suddenly checking himself by his wings and the spread 
of his full tail, mounts again, and re-commences his 
curvilinear flight. 

After this had gone on for some time, one of the 
birds — the larger one, and therefore the female — was 
seen to leave off hunting, and return to the nest. 
There she sat only for a few seconds, when, to the 
astonishment of the boys, she began to strike her wings 
against the young ones, as if she was endeavouring to 
236 


Xlbe jf isb:*ir3awft 


force them from the nest. This was just what she de- 
signed doing. Perhaps her late unsuccessful attempt 
to get them a fish had led her to a train of reflections, 
and sharpened her determination to make them shift 
for themselves. However that may be, in a few mo- 
ments she succeeded in driving them up to the edge, 
and then, by half pushing, and half beating them with 
her wings, one after the other — two of them there were 
— was seen to take wing, and soar away out over the 
lake. 

At this moment, the male shot down upon the water, 
and then rose again into the air, bearing a fish, head- 
foremost, in his talons. He flew directly towards one 
of the young, and meeting it as it hovered in the air, 
turned suddenly over, and held out the fish to it. The 
latter clutched it with as much ease as if it had been 
accustomed to the thing for years, and then turning 
away, carried the fish to a neighbouring tree, and com- 
menced devouring it. The action had been perceived 
by the other youngster, who followed after, and alighted 
upon the same branch, with the intention of sharing in 
the meal. In a few minutes, the best part of the fish 
was eaten up, and both, rising from the branch, flew 
back to their nest. There they were met by the par- 
ents, and welcomed with a loud squeaking, that was 
intended, no doubt, to congratulate them upon the suc- 
cess of their first “ fly.” 


237 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


THK OSPRKY AND HIS TYRANT. 

ETER remaining for some time on the nest along 



with the others, the old male again resolved to 


‘ ‘ go a-fishing, ’ ’ and with this intent he shot out from 
the tree, and commenced wheeling above the water. 
The boys, having nothing better to engage them, sat 
watching his motions, while they freely conversed about 
his habits and other points in his natural history. 
Eucien informed them that the osprey is a bird common 
to both Continents, and that it is often seen upon the 
shores of the Mediterranean, pursuing the finny tribes 
there, just as it does in America. In some parts of 
Italy it is called the “ leaden eagle,” because its sud- 
den heavy plunge upon the water is fancied to resemble 
the falling of a piece of lead. 

While they were discoursing, the osprey was seen to 
dip once or twice towards the surface of the water, and 
then suddenly check himself, and mount upward again. 
These manoeuvres were no doubt caused by the fish 
which he intended to “ hook ” having suddenly shifted 
their quarters. Most probably experience had taught 


238 


Zbc anb Ibis XT^rant 


them wisdom, and they knew the osprey as their most 
terrible enemy. But they were not to escape him at 
all times. As the boys watched the bird, he was seen 
to poise himself for an instant in the air, then suddenly 
closing his wings, he shot vertically downward. So 
rapid was his descent, that the eye could only trace it 
like a bolt of lightning. There was a sharp whizzing 
sound in the air — a plash was heard — then the smooth 
bosom of the water was seen to break, and the white 
spray rose several feet above the surface. For an 
instant the bird was no longer seen. He was under- 
neath, and the place of his descent was marked by a 
patch of foam. Only a single moment was he out of 
sight. The next he emerged, and a few strokes of his 
broad wing carried him into the air, while a large fish 
was seen griped in his claws. As the voyageurs had 
before noticed, the fish was carried head-foremost, and 
this led them to the conclusion that in striking his prey 
beneath the water the osprey follows it and aims his 
blow from behind. 

After mounting a short distance the bird paused for 
a moment in the air, and gave himself a shake, pre- 
cisely as a dog would do after coming out of water. 
He then directed his flight, now somewhat slow and 
heavy, toward the nest. On reaching the tree, how- 
ever, there appeared to be .some mismanagement. The 
fish caught among the branches as he flew inward. 
Perhaps the presence of the camp had distracted his 
239 


TLbc l^oung Do^aaeurs 


attention, and rendered him less careful. At all events, 
the prey was seen to drop from his talons ; and bound- 
ing from branch to branch, went tumbling down to 
the bottom of the tree. 

Nothing could be more opportune than this, for Fran- 
cois had not been able to get a “nibble” during the 
whole day, and a fresh fish for dinner was very desir- 
able to all. Francois and Basil had both started to 
their feet, in order to secure the fish before the osprey 
should pounce down and pick it up ; but Fucien assured 
them that they need be in no hurry about that, as the 
bird would not touch it again after he had once let it 
fall. Hearing this, they took their time about it, and 
walked leisurely up to the tree, where they found the 
fish lying. After taking it up they were fain to escape 
from the spot, for the effluvium arising from a mass of 
other fish that lay in a decomposed state around the 
tree was more than any delicate pair of nostrils could 
endure. The one they had secured proved to be a 
very fine salmon of not less than six pounds weight, 
and therefore much heavier than the bird itself ! The 
track of the osprey’s talons was deeply marked ; and 
by the direction in which the creature was scored, it 
was evident the bird had seized it from behind. The 
old hawks made a considerable noise while the fish 
was being carried away ; but they soon gave up their 
squealing, and, once more hovering out over the river, 
sailed about with their eyes bent upon the water below. 

240 


Ube ©spre^ anb Ibis XTprant 


“What a number offish they must kill!” said 
Fran9ois. “ They don’t appear to have much difficulty 
about it. I should think they get as much as they 
can eat. See ! there again ! Another, I declare ! ” 

As Francois spake the male osprey was seen to shoot 
down as before, and this time, although he appeared 
scarcely to dip his foot in the water, rose up with a 
fish in his talons. 

“They have sometimes others to provide for beside 
themselves, ’ ’ remarked Tucien. ‘ ‘ For instance, the bald 
eagle ’ ’ 

Lucien was interrupted by a cackling scream, which 
was at once recognised as that of the very bird whose 
name had just escaped his lips. All eyes were in- 
stantly turned in the direction whence it came — which 
was from the opposite side of the river — and there, 
just in the act of launching itself from the top of a 
tall tree, was the great enemy of the osprey — the white- 
headed eagle himself I 

“ Now a chase ! ” cried Francois, “yonder comes the 
big robber ! ’ ’ 

With some excitement of feeling, the whole party 
watched the movements of the birds. A few strokes 
of the eagle’s wing brought him near ; but the osprey 
had already heard his scream, and knowing it was no 
use carrying the fish to his nest, turned away from it, 
and rose spirally upward, in the hope of escaping in that 
direction. The eagle followed, beating the air with 


Ube ^omQ tDoi^aGCitrs 


his broad pinions, as he soared after. Close behind 
him went the female osprey, uttering wild screams, 
flapping her wings against his very beak, and endeav- 
ouring to distract his attention from the chase. It 
was to no purpose, however, as the eagle full well 
knew her object, and disregarding her impotent at- 
tempts, kept on in steady flight after her mate. This 
continued until the birds had reached a high elevation, 
and the ospreys, from their less bulk, were nearly out 
of sight. But the voyageurs could see that the eagle 
was on the point of overtaking the one that carried 
the fish. Presently, a glittering object dropped down 
from the heavens, and fell with a plunge upon the 
water. It was the fish, and almost at the same instant 
was heard the ‘ ‘ whish ! ” of the eagle, as the great 
bird shot after it. Before reaching the surface, how- 
ever, his white tail and wings were seen to spread 
suddenly, checking his downward course ; and then, 
with a scream of disappointment, he flew off in a hori- 
zontal direction, and alit upon the same tree from 
which he had taken his departure. In a minute after 
the ospreys came shooting down, in a diagonal line, to 
their nest ; and, having arrived there, a loud and ap- 
parently angry consultation was carried on for some 
time, in which the young birds bore as noisy a part as 
either of their parents. 

“It’s a wonder,” said Tucien, “the eagle missed 
the fish — he rarely does.- The impetus which he can 
242 


XTbe ©sprep anb Ibis U^rant 


give his body enables him to overtake a falling object 
before it can reach the earth. Perhaps the female 
osprey was in his way, and hindered him.” 

‘ ‘ But why did he not pick it up in the water ? ’ ’ 
demanded Francois. 

“Because it went to the bottom, and he could not 
reach it — that ’s clear.” 

It was Basil who made answer, and the reason he 
assigned was the true one. 

“It’s too bad,” said Francois, “that the osprey, 
not half so big a bird, must support this great robber- 
tyrant by his industry.” 

“ It ’s no worse than among our own kind,” inter- 
posed Basil. “See how the white man makes the 
black one work for him here in America. That, how- 
ever, is the few toiling for the million. In Europe the 
case is reversed. There, in every country, you see the 
million toiling for the few — toiling to support an oli- 
garchy in luxurious ease, or a monarch in barbaric 
splendour.” 

“ But why do they do so? the fools ! ” asked Fran- 
5ois, somewhat angrily. 

“ Because they know no better. That oligarchy, 
and those monarchs, have taken precious care to 
educate and train them to the belief that such is the 
natural state of man. They furnish them with school- 
books, which are filled with beautiful sophisms — all 
tending to inculcate principles of endurance of wrong, 
243 


XTbe J^ouno IDoi^ageurs 


and reverence for their wrongers. They fill their rude 
throats with hurrah songs that paint false patriotism 
in glowing colours, making loyalty — no matter to what- 
soever despot — the greatest of virtues, and revolution 
the greatest of crimes ; they studiously divide their 
subjects into several creeds, and then, playing upon 
the worst of all passions — the passion of religious 
bigotry — easily prevent their misguided helots from 
uniting upon any point which would give them a real 
reform. Ah ! it is a terrible game which the present 
rulers of Europe are playing ! ’ ’ 

It was Basil who gave utterance to these sentiments, 
for the young republican of Louisiana had already 
begun to think strongly on political subjects. No 
doubt Basil would one day be an M.C. 

“ The bald eagles have been much blamed for their 
treatment of the ospreys, but,” said Eucien, ” perhaps 
they have more reason for levying their tax than at 
first appears. It has been asked : Why they do not 
capture the fish themselves ? Now, I apprehend, that 
there is a natural reason why they do not. As you 
have seen, the fish are not always caught upon the 
surface. The osprey has often to plunge beneath the 
water in the pursuit, and Nature has gifted him with 
power to do so, which, if I am not mistaken, she has 
denied to the eagles. The latter are therefore compelled, 
in some measure, to depend upon the former for a 
supply. But the eagles sometimes do catch the fish 
244 


Ube ©spre^ anb Ibis U^rant 


themselves, when the water is siiflBciently shallow, or 
when their prey conies near enough to the surface to 
enable them to seize it. ’ ’ 

“ Do they ever kill the ospreys? ” inquired Francois. 

“I think not,” replied lyucien ; “that would be 
‘ killing the goose,’ etc. They know the value of their 
tax-payers too well to get rid of them in that way. A 
band of ospreys, in a place where there happens to be 
many of them together, have been known to unite and 
drive the eagles off. That, I suppose, must be looked 
upon in the light of a successful revolution y 

The conversation was here interrupted by another 
incident. The ospreys had again gone out fishing, 
and, at this moment, one of them was seen to pounce 
down and take a fish from the water. It was a large 
fish, and, as the bird flew heavily upward, the eagle 
again left its perch, and gave chase. This time the 
osprey was overtaken before it had got two hundred 
yards into the air, and seeing it was no use attempting 
to carry off the prey, it opened its claws and let it 
drop. The eagle turned suddenly, poised himself a 
moment, and then shot after the falling fish. Before 
the latter had got near the ground, he overtook and 
secured it in his talons. Then, arresting his own flight 
by the sudden spread of his tail, he winged his way 
silently across the river, and disappeared among the 
trees upon the opposite side. The osprey, taking the 
thing as a matter of course, again descended to the 
245 


Ul)c l^ouuG tDopageurs 


proper elevation, and betook himself to his work. 
Perhaps he grinned a little like many another royal 
tax-payer, but he knew the tax had to be paid all the 
same, and he said nothing. 

An incident soon after occurred that astonished and 
puzzled our party not a little. The female osprey, that 
all this time seemed to have had but poor success in 
her fishing, was now seen to descend with a rush, and 
plunge deeply into the wave. The spray rose in a little 
cloud over the spot, and all sat watching with eager 
eyes to witness the result. What was their astonish- 
ment when, after waiting many seconds, the bird still 
remained under water ! Minutes passed, and still she 
did not come up. She came up no more ! The foam 
she had made in her descent floated away — the bosom 
of the water was smooth as glass— not a ripple dis- 
turbed its surface. They could have seen the smallest 
object for a hundred yards or more around the spot 
where she had disappeared. It was impossible she 
could have emerged without them seeing her. Where, 
then, had she gone ? This, as I have said, puzzled the 
whole party ; and formed a subject of conjecture and 
conversation for the rest of that day, and also upon the 
next. Even Tucien was unable to solve the mystery. 
It was a point in the natural history of the osprey 
unknown to him. Could she have drowned herself? 
Had some great fish, the “gar pike,” or some such 
creature, got hold of and swallowed her? Had she 
246 


Ubc ©sprep anb tiis XT^rant 


dashed her head against a rock, or become entangled 
in weeds at the bottom of the river ? 

All these questions were put, and various solutions 
of the problem were offered. The true one was not 
thought of, until accident revealed it. It was Saturday 
when the incident occurred. The party, of course, 
remained all next day at the place. They heard 
almost continually the cry of the bereaved bird, who 
most likely knew no more than they what had become 
of his mate. On Monday our travellers re-embarked 
and continued down-stream. About a mile below, as 
they were paddling along, their attention was drawn 
to a singular object floating upon the water. They 
brought the canoe alongside it. It was a large fish, a 
sturgeon, floating dead, with a bird beside it, also 
dead ! On turning both over, what was their astonish- 
ment to see that the talons of the bird were firmly fixed 
in the back of the fish ! It was the female osprey ! 
This explained all. She had struck a fish too heavy 
for her strength, and being unable to clear her claws 
again, had been drawn under the water and had per- 
ished along with her victim ! 


247 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


THE) voyag:^ INTKRRUPTKD. 

BOUT ten days’ rapid travelling down the Elk 



River brought our party into the Athabasca 


Eake — sometimes called the “Lake of the Hills.” 
This is another of those great bodies of fresh water 
that lie between the primitive rocks of the “ Barren 
Grounds, ’ ’ and the more fertile limestone deposit upon 
the west. It is nearly two hundred miles long from 
west to east, and is only fifteen miles in breadth, but 
in some places it is so narrow and full of islands that it 
looks more like a broad river than a lake. Its shores 
and many of its islands are thickly wooded, particularly 
upon the southern and western edges ; and the eye of 
the traveller is delighted with many a beautiful vista 
as he passes along. But our voyageurs took little heed 
of these things. A gloom had come over their spirits, 
for one of their party had taken ill, and was suffering 
from a painful and dangerous disease— an intermittent 
fever. It was Lucien — he that was beloved by all of 
them. He had been complaining for several days— even 
while admiring the fair scenery of the romantic Elk — 
248 


Ube IDopage Unterrupteb 


but every day he had been getting worse, until, on their 
arrival at the lake, he declared himself no longer able to 
travel. It became necessary, therefore, to suspend their 
journey ; and choosing a place for their camp, they 
made arrangements to remain until kucien should re- 
cover. They built a small log-hut for the invalid, and 
did everything to make him as comfortable as possible. 
The best skins were spread for his couch ; and cooling 
drinks were brewed for him from roots, fruits, and 
berries, in the way he had already taught his com- 
panions to prepare them. Every day Francois went 
forth with his gun, and returned with a pair of young 
pigeons, or a wood-partridge, or a brace of the beauti- 
ful ruffed grouse ; and out of these he would make 
delicate soups, which he was the better able to do as 
they had procured salt, pepper, and other ingredients, 
at the Fort. They had also brought with them a stock 
of tea — the real China tea — and sugar ; and as the 
quantity of both was but small, this luxurious beverage 
was made exclusively for Lucien, and was found by 
him exceedingly beneficial during his illness. 

To the great joy of all the invalid was at length 
restored to health, and the canoe being once more 
launched and freighted, they continued their journey. 

They coasted along the shore of the lake, and en- 
tered the Great Slave River, which runs from the Atha- 
basca into the Great Slave Lake. They soon came to 
the mouth of another large river, called the Peace. 

249 


Ubc 13 oun 0 IDopageurs 


This runs into the Great Slave a short distance below 
Take Athabasca, and, strange to say, the sources of 
the Peace River lie upon the western side of the Rocky 
Mountains, so that this stream actually runs across the 
mountain-chain ! It passes through the mountains in 
a succession of deep gorges, which are terrible to be- 
hold. On both sides dizzy cliffs and snow-capped 
peaks rise thousands of feet above its rocky bed, and 
the scenery is cold and desolate. Its head- waters in- 
terlock with those of several streams that run into the 
Pacific ; so that, had our voyageurs wished to travel to 
the shores of that ocean, they might have done so in 
their birch -bark canoe nearly the whole of the way. 
But this was not their design at present, so they passed 
the dibouchure of the Peace, and kept on for the Great 
Slave Take. They were still upon the same water as 
the Klk, for the Great Slave is only another name for 
that part of the river lying between the two lakes — 
Athabasca and Great Slave. Of course the river had 
now become much larger by the influx of the Peace, 
and they were travelling upon the bosom of a magnif- 
icent stream, with varied scenery upon its banks. They 
were not so happy, however, as when descending the 
Elk — not but that they were all in good health, for 
Tucien had grown quite strong again. No, it was not 
any want of health that rendered them less cheerful. 
It was the prospect before them — the prospect of com- 
ing winter, which they now felt certain would arrive 
250 


Ube iDopage Untertupteb 


before they had got to the end of their journey. The 
delay of nearly a month, occasioned by Tucien’s ill- 
ness, had deranged all their calculations ; and they had 
no longer any hope of being able to finish their voyage 
in what remained of the short summer. The ice would 
soon make its appearance ; the lakes and rivers would 
be frozen up ; they could no longer navigate them in 
their canoe. To travel a-foot would be a most labo- 
rious undertaking, as well as perilous in an extreme de- 
gree. In this way it is only possible to carry a very 
small quantity of provisions — for the traveller is com- 
pelled to load himself with skin-clothing in order to 
keep out the cold. The chances of procuring game by 
the way in that season are precarious, and not to be 
depended upon. Most of the birds and many of the 
quadrupeds migrate to more southern regions ; and 
those that remain are shy and rare. Besides, great 
snow-storms are to be encountered, in which the 
traveller is in danger of getting “smoored.’’ The 
earth is buried under a deep covering of snow, and to 
pass over this while soft is difiScult, and at times quite 
impossible. All these circumstances were known to 
our young voyageurs — to Norman better than any of 
them — and of course the prospect was a cheerless one 
— much more so than those unacquainted with the win- 
ter of these dreary regions would be willing to believe. 

It was the month of August, near its end, when they 
reached the Great Slave Take, in the latitude of 62°. 


251 


Ube lacuna IDopa^eurs 


The days had now become very short, and their jour- 
neys grew vShort in proportion. They already experi- 
enced weather as cold as an Knglish winter. There 
were slight frosts at night — though not yet enough to 
cover the water with ice— and the mid-day hours were 
hot, sometimes too hot to be comfortable. But this 
only caused them to feel the cold the more sensibly 
when evening set in ; and all their robes and skins were 
necessary to keep them warm during the night. 

The Great Slave Take, like the Athabasca, is very 
long and ver}^ narrow. It extends full 260 miles from 
east to west, but at its widest part is not over thirty, 
and in some places much less. Along its northern 
shores lies the edge of the “Barren Grounds,” and 
there nothing meets the eye but bleak and naked hills 
of primitive rock. On its southern side the geology is 
entirely of a different character. There the limestone 
prevails, and scarcely anything that deserves the name 
of hill is to be seen. There are fine forests too, in 
which poplars, pines, and birches, are the principal 
trees. The lake is filled with islands, many of which 
are wholly or partially covered with timber of these 
kinds, and willows also are abundant. There are fish 
of several species in its waters, which are in many 
places of great depth — sixty fathoms deep — and in 
some of the islands, and around the wooded shores 
game exists in abundance in the summer season. 
Kven in winter it is not scarce, but then it is difficult 


252 


Ubc IDopa^e UnterrupteD 


to follow it on account of the deep snow. Many of the 
animals, too, at this season become torpid, and are of 
course hidden in caves and hollow trees, and even in 
the snow itself, where no one can find them. Not- 
withstanding all this, our voyageurs knew that it 
would be the best place for them to make their winter 
camp. They saw that to complete their journey during 
that season would be impossible. Even had it been a 
month earlier it would have been a difficult undertak- 
ing. In a few days winter would be upon them. They 
would have to stop somewhere. There was no place 
where they could so safely stay as by the lake. One 
thing they would have there, which might not be found 
so plenty elsewhere, that was wood for their fire ; and 
this was an inducement to remain by the lake. Hav- 
ing made up their minds, therefore, to encamp on 
some part of it, they looked from day to day for a 
place that would be most suitable, still continuing their 
journey towards its western end. As yet no place 
appeared to their liking, and as the lake near its west- 
ern point trends away towards the south, Norman pro- 
posed that they should follow the shore no longer, but 
strike across to a promontory on the northern shore 
of the lake, known as “ Slave Point.” This promon- 
tory is of the limestone formation, and as Norman had 
heard, is well wooded, and stocked with game. Even 
buffaloes are found there. It is, in fact, the farthest 
point to the north-east that these animals range, and 
253 


Ubc l^ouuG IDo^a^eurs 


this presents us with a curious fact. It is the farthest 
point that the limestone deposit extends in that direc- 
tion. Beyond that, to the east and north, lie the 
primitive rocks of the Barren Grounds, into which the 
buffaloes never stray. Thus we observe the connection 
that exists between the fauna of a country and its 
geological character. 

Of course they all agreed to Norman’s proposal. 
The canoe was therefore headed for the open waters ; 
and, after a hard day’s paddling — for there was a head- 
wind — the voyageurs landed on a small wooded island, 
about half-way over the lake, where they encamped 
for the night, intending next day to cross the remain- 
ing part. 


254 


CHAPTER XXV. 


FISHING UNDKR THF ICF. 

O N awaking next morning, to their great surprise, 
they saw that the lake was frozen over! 
They had almost anticipated as much, for the night 
was one of the coldest they had yet experienced — so 
cold that one and all of them had slept but badly. 
As yet the ice was thin, but so much the worse. It 
was thick enough to prevent them from using the 
canoe, but too thin to bear their weight, and they now 
saw that they were prisoners upon the island ! 

It was not without some feelings of alarm that they 
made this discovery ; but their fears were allayed by 
reflecting, that they could remain upon the island 
until the ice either thawed away or became strong 
enough to bear them, and then they could cross upon 
it to the northern shore. With this consolation, 
therefore, they set about making their temporary 
quarters upon the island as snug as circumstances 
would permit. Their apprehensions, however, began 
to return again, when several days had passed over, 
and the ice neither grew any thinner nor any thicker, but 
255 


Ube lacuna IDo^ageuta 


seemed to remain at a stand-still. In the early part of 
the morning it was almost strong enough to bear them ; 
but during the day the sun melted it, until it was 
little better than a scum over the surface of the water. 
The alarm of our voyageurs increased. Their provi- 
sions were nearly out. There was no game on the 
islet — not so much as a bird — for they had beaten 
every bush, and found nothing. Once or twice they 
thought of launching their canoe and breaking a way 
for it through the ice. But they knew that this pro- 
ceeding would be one of much labour as well as danger. 
The islet was full ten miles from the shore, and they 
would therefore have to break the ice for ten miles. 
Moreover, to stand up in a bark canoe, so as to get at 
the work, would be a difficult task. It could not be 
accomplished without endangering the equilibrium of 
the vessel, and indeed without upsetting it altogether. 
Even to lean forward in the bow would be a perilous 
experiment ; and under these considerations the idea 
of breaking a way was abandoned. But their pro- 
visions were at length entirely exhausted, and what 
was to be done ? The ice was still too weak to carry 
them. Near the shore it might have been strong 
enough, but farther out lay the danger. There they 
knew it was thinner, for it had not frozen over until a 
later period. It would have been madness to have 
risked it yet. On the other hand, they were starving, 
or likely to starve from hunger, by staying where they 
256 


iPtsbing Ulnber tbe flee 


were. There was nothing eatable on the island. 
What was to be done ? In the water were fish — they 
doubted not that — but how were they to catch them ? 
They had tried them with hook and line, letting the 
hook through a hole in the ice ; but at that late season 
the fish would not take a bait, and although they kept 
several continually set, and “ looked ” them most regu- 
larly and assiduousl}^ not a “ tail ” was taken. 

They were about to adopt the desperate expedient, 
now more difficult than ever, of breaking their waj'- 
through the ice, when, all at once, it occurred to 
Norman, that, if they could not coax the fish to take a 
bait, they might succeed better with a net, and capture 
them against their will. This idea would have been 
plausible enough, had there been a net ; but there was 
no net on that islet, nor perhaps within an hundred 
miles of it. The absence of a net might have been an 
obstacle to those who are ever ready to despair ; but 
such an obstacle never occurred to our courageous 
boys. They had two parchment skins of the caribou 
which they had lately killed, and out of these Norman 
proposed to make a net. He would soon do it, he 
said, if the others would set to work and cut the deer- 
skins into thongs fine enough for the purpose. Two 
of them, therefore, Basil and Tucien, took out their 
knives, and went briskly to work ; while Frangois 
assisted Norman in twining the thongs, and afterwards 
held them, while the latter wove and knotted them 


Ube l^oung tDo^ageurs 


into meshes. In a few hours both the skins were cut 
into fine strips, and worked up ; and a net was pro- 
duced nearly six yards in length by at least two in 
width. It was rude enough, to be sure, but perhaps it 
would do its work as well as if it had been twined out 
of silk. At all events, it was soon to have a trial — 
for the moment it was finished the sinkers were attached 
to it, and it was carried down to the edge of the water. 

The three ‘ ‘ Southerners ’ ’ had never seen a net set 
under ice — for in their country ice is an uncommon 
thing, and indeed never freezes of sufl&cient thickness 
to carry the weight of a man. They were therefore 
very curious to know how the thing was to be done. 
They could not conceive how the net was to be stretched 
under the ice, in such a manner as to catch the fish. 
Norman, however, knew all about it. He had seen 
the Indians, and had set many a one himself. It was 
no new thing for him, and he set about it at once. 

He first crept out upon the ice to the distance of 
about twenty or thirty yards from the shore. He pro- 
ceeded cautiously, as the ice creaked under him. Hav- 
ing arrived at the place where he intended to set the 
net, he knelt down, and with his knife cut several 
holes in the ice, at the distance of about six feet from 
each other, and all in one line. He had already pro- 
vided himself with a straight sapling of more than six 
feet in length, to one end of which he had attached a 
cord. The other end of this cord was tied to the net, 
258 


ffisbiuG Xllnber tbe ITce 


at one of its corners. He now thrust the sapling 
through the first hole he had made, and then guided 
it so as to pass directly under the second! At this hole 
he took a fresh hold of the stick, and passed it along 
to the next, and so on to the last, where he pulled it 
out again, and of course along with it the string. The 
net was now drawn into the first hole, and by means 
of the cord already received through, was pulled out 
to its full length. The sinkers, of course, fell down in 
the water, and drew it into a vertical position. At 
both its upper corners the net was made fast above the 
ice, and was now “ set.” Nothing more could be done 
until the fish came into it of their own accord, when 
it could be drawn out upon the ice by means of the 
cord attached ; and, of course, by the same means 
could easily be returned to its place, and set again. 

All of them now went back to the fire, and with 
hungry looks sat around it, waiting the result. They 
had made up their minds, should no fish be caught, to 
get once more into the canoe and attempt breaking 
their way to the shore. Summoning all their patience, 
therefore, they waited for nearly two hours, without 
examining the net. Then Norman and Basil crawled 
back upon the ice, to see what fortune had done for 
them. They approached the spot, and, with their 
hearts thumping against their ribs, untied the knot, 
and commenced hauling out. 

“It certainly feels heavy,” said Basil, as the net 
259 


XTbe ISoung IDopa^eurs 


was being drawn. “ Hurrah ! ” he shouted. “ Some- 
thing kicks, hurrah ! ” and with the second “ hurrah !” 
a beautiful fish was pulled up through the hole, and 
landed upon the ice. A loud “ hurrah” was uttered 
in response by I^ucien and Franfois — who, fearing the 
ice might not bear so many, had remained upon the 
shore. A yard or two more of the net was cleared, 
and a second fish still larger than the former was 
greeted with a general ‘ ‘ hurrah ! ’ ’ The two fish were 
now taken out — as these were all that had been caught 
— and the net was once more carefully set. Basil and 
Norman came back to the shore — Norman to receive 
quite a shower of compliments from his companions. 
The fish — the largest of which weighed nearly five 
pounds — proved to be trout ; and it was not long before 
their quality was put to the proof. All declared they 
had never eaten so fine trout in their lives ; but when 
the condition of their appetites is taken into account, 
we may infer that there was, perhaps, a little exagger- 
ation in this statement. If hunger really makes good 
sauce, our voyageurs had the best of sauce with their 
fish, as each of them was as hungry as a half-famished 
wolf. 

They felt quite relieved, as far as present appetite 
went, but they were still uneasy for the future. Should 
they not succeed in taking more fish — and it was by 
no means certain they should succeed — they would be 
no better off than ever. Their anxiety, however, was 
260 


IfisbiuG Xanber tbe 1tce 


soon removed. Their second “haul” proved even 
more successful than the first— as five fish, weighing 
together not less than twenty pounds, were pulled up. 

This supply would enable them to hold out for a 
long time, but they had not much longer to remain on 
the islet. Upon that very night there was one of those 
severe frosts known only in high latitudes, and the ice 
upon the lake became nearly a foot in thickness. They 
had no longer any fear of its breaking under their 
weight ; and taking their canoe with all their “ traps,” 
they set out to cross over upon the ice. In a few hours 
they reached the shore of the lake, near the end of the 
promontory, where they chose a spot, and encamped. 


261 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


AN ODD ADARM, 


HE first thing our voyageurs did after choosing a 



suitable situation, was to build a log-hut. Being 


young backwoodsmen this was but a trifle to them. All 
four of them knew how to handle an axe with dexterity. 
The logs were soon cut and notched, and a small cabin 
was put up, and roofed with split clap-boards. With 
the stones that lay near the shore of the lake they built 
a chimney. It was but a rude structure, but it drew 
admirably. Clay was wanted to “chink” the cabin, 
but that could not be had, as the ground was hard 
frozen, and it was quite impossible to make either clay 
or mud. Even hot water poured out would freeze into 
ice in a few minutes. This was a serious want — for in 
such a cold climate even the smallest hole in the walls 
will keep a house uncomfortable, and to fill the inter- 
stices between the logs, so as to make them air-tight, 
some soft substance was necessary. Grass was sug- 
gested, and Eucien went off in search of it. After 
awhile he returned with an armful of half-withered 
grass, which all agreed would be the very thing ; and 


Hn Hlarm 


a large quantit}" was soon collected, as it grew plenti- 
fully at a short distance from the cabin. 

They now set to work to stuff it into the chinks ; 
when, to their astonishment, they found that this grass 
had a beautiful smell, quite as powerful and pleasant 
as that of mint or thyme ! When a small quantity of 
it was flung into the fire it filled the cabin with a fra- 
grance as agreeable as the costliest perfumes. It was 
the ‘ ‘ scented grass, ’ ’ which grows in great profusion 
in many parts of the Hudson’s Bay territory, and out 
of which the Indians often make their beds, burning it 
also upon the fire to enjoy its aromatic perfume. 

For the first day or two, at their new abode, the 
travellers had lived altogether on fish. They had, of 
course, brought their net with them from the island, 
and had set it near the shore in the same way as before. 
They had captured as many as they wanted, and, 
strange to say, at one haul they found no less than 
five different species in the net ! One kind, a white 
fish, the Coregonus albus of naturalists, but which is 
named “ tittameg ” by the fur-traders, they caught in 
great plenty. This fish is found in nearly all the lakes 
and rivers of the Hudson’s Bay territory, and is much 
prized both by whites and Indians for its delicate 
flavour. At some of the trading-posts it often forms, 
for weeks together, the only food which the residents 
can obtain ; and they are quite satisfied when they can 
get enough of it. The tittanieg is not a large fish ; 

263 


Zbc J^oung IDoi^aoeurs 


the largest attain to the weight of about eight 
pounds. 

There was another and still smaller species, which, 
from its colour, the voyageurs call the ‘ ‘ poisson bleu, ’ ’ 
or blue fish. It is the Cor eg onus signifer of ichthy- 
ologists. It is a species of grayling, and frequents 
sharp-running water, where it will leap at the fly like 
a trout. Several kinds of trout also inhabit the Great 
Slave Take, and some of these attain to the enormous 
weight of eighty pounds ! A few were caught, but 
none of so gigantic proportions as this. Pike were 
also taken in the net, and a species of burbot {Gadus 
lota). This last is one of the most voracious of the 
finny tribe, and preys upon all others that it is able 
to swallow. It devours whole quantities of cray-fish, 
until its stomach becomes crammed to such a degree 
as to distort the shape of its whole body. When this 
kind was drawn out, it was treated very rudely by the 
boys — because its flesh was known to be extremely un- 
savoury, and none of them cared to eat it. Marengo, 
however, had no such scruples, and he was wont to 
make several hearty meals each day upon the rejected 
burbot. 

A fish diet exclusively was not the thing ; and as 
our party soon grew tired of it, the hunter Basil 
shouldered his rifle, and strode off into the woods in 
search of game. The others remained working upon 
the cabin, which was still far from being finished. 

264 


Hu Hlarm 


Basil kept along the edge of the lake in an easterly 
direction. He had not gone more than a quarter of a 
mile, when he came upon a dry gravelly ridge, which 
was thickly covered with a species of pine-trees that 
resembled the Scotch fir (Pznus sylvestris). These 
trees were not over forty feet in height, with very 
thick trunks and long flexible branches. No other 
trees grew among them, for it is the nature of this 
pine — which was the ‘ ‘ scrub ’ ’ or grey pine {P. Bank- 
siana ) — to monopolise the ground wherever it grows. 
As Basil passed on, he noticed that many of the 
trees were completely “barked,” particularly on the 
branches ; and small pieces of the bark lay scattered 
over the ground, as though it had been peeled off and 
gnawed by some animal. He was walking quietly on 
and thinking what creature could have made such a 
wreck, when he came to a place where the ground 
was covered with fine sand or dust. In this, to his 
astonishment, he observed what he supposed to be 
the tracks of human feet ! They were not those of 
a man, but small tracks resembling the footsteps of 
a child of three or four years of age. He was about 
stooping down to examine them more closely, when 
a voice sounded in his ears exactly like the cry of a 
child ! This brought him suddenly to an erect atti- 
tude again, and he looked all round to discover who 
or what had uttered that strange cry. He could see 
no one — child or man — and strange, too, for he had 
265 


Zbc l^oung IDopaGeurs 


a clear view through the tree-trunks for several hun- 
dred yards around. He was filled with curiosity, not 
unmixed with alarm ; and, stepping forward a few 
paces, he was about to bend down and examine the 
tracks a second time, when the singular cry again 
startled him. This time it was louder than before, as 
if he was closer to whatever had uttered it, but Basil 
now perceived that it proceeded from above him. The 
creature from which it came was certainly not upon 
the ground, but high up among the tops of the trees. 
He looked up, and there, in the fork of one of the 
pines, he perceived a singular and hideous-looking 
animal — such as he had never before seen. It was of 
a brown colour, about the size of a terrier-dog, with 
thick shaggy hair, and clumped up in the fork of the 
tree — so that its head and feet were scarcely distinguish- 
able. Its odd appearance, as well as the peculiar cry 
which it had uttered, would have alarmed many a one 
of less courage than our young hunter, and Basil was 
at first, as he afterwards confessed, “slightly flurried ” ; 
but a moment’s reflection told him what the animal 
was — one of the most innocent and inoffensive of God’s 
creatures — the Canada porcupine. It was this, then, 
that had barked the scrub pines — for they are its 
favourite food ; and it was its track — which in reality 
very much resembles that of a child — that Basil had 
seen in the sand. 

The first thought of the young hunter was to throw 
266 


Hn Hlarm 


up his "rifle, and send a bullet through the ungainly 
animal ; which, instead of making any effort to escape, 
remained almost motionless, uttering, at intervals, its 
child-like screams. Basil, however, reflected that the 
report of his rifle would frighten any large game that 
might chance to be near ; and as the porcupine was 
hardly worth a shot, he concluded, upon reflection, it 
would be better to leave it alone. He knew — for he 
had heard Lucien say so — that he would find the por- 
cupine at any time, were it a week, or even a month 
after — for these creatures remain sometimes a whole 
■winter in the same grove. He resolved, therefore, 
should no other game turn up, to return for it ; and 
shouldering his rifle again, he continued his course 

I 

through the woods. 

As he proceeded, the timber became thinner. The 
scrub-pines gave place to poplar-trees, with here and 
there an undergrowth of willows. The trees stood 
far apart, and the willows grew only in clumps or 
‘ ‘ islands, ’ ’ so that the view was nearly open for many 
hundred yards around. Basil walked on with all the 
silence and watchfulness of a true ‘ ‘ still ’ ’ hunter — for, 
among backwoodsmen, this species of hunting is so 
called. He ascended a low hill, and keeping a tree in 
front of him, looked cautiously over its crest. Before 
him, and stretching from the bottom of the hill, was a 
level tract of considerable extent. It was bounded on 
one side by the edge of the lake, and on all the others 
267 


Ubc IffouuG IDo^aaeurs 


by thin woods, similar to those through which the 
hunter had been for some time travelling. Here and 
there, over the plain, there stood trees, far apart from 
each other, and in nowise intercepting the view for a 
mile or more. The ground was clear of underwood, 
except along the immediate edge of the lake, which 
was fringed by a thicket of willows. 

As Basil looked over the hill, he espied a small 
group of animals near the interior border of the willows. 
He had never seen animals of the same species before, 
but the genus was easily told. The tall antlered horns, 
that rose upon the head of one of them, showed that 
they were deer of some kind ; and the immense size of 
the creature that bore them, together with his ungainly 
form, his long legs, and ass-like ears, his huge head 
with its overhanging lip, his short neck with its stand- 
ing mane, and, above all, the broad palmation of the 
horns themselves, left ‘Basil without any doubt upon his 
mind that the animals before him were moose-deer — the 
largest, and perhaps the most awkward, of all the deer 
kind. The one with the antlers was the male or bull- 
moose. The others were the female and her two calves 
of the preceding year. The latter were still but half- 
grown, and, like the female, were without the “ branch- 
ing horns” that adorned the head of the old bull. 
They were all of a dark-brown colour — looking blackish 
in the distance — but the large one was darker than any 
of the others. 


268 


Hn Hlarm 


Basil’s heart beat high, for he had often heard of the 
great moose, but now saw it for the first time. In his 
own country it is not found, as it is peculiarly a creat- 
ure of the cold regions, and ranges no farther to the 
south than the northern edge of the United States ter- 
ritory. To the north it is met with as far as timber 
grows — even to the shores of the Polar Sea ! Natural- 
ists are not certain, whether or not it be the same 
animal with the elk (Cervus alces) of Europe. Certainly 
the two are but little, if anything, different ; but 
the name “elk ” has been given in America to quite 
another and smaller species of deer — the wapiti {Cervus 
Canadensis). The moose takes its name from its Indian 
appellation, “mooso^,” or “wood-eater” ; and this 
name is very appropriate, as the animal lives mostly 
upon the leaves and twigs of trees. In fact, its struct- 
ure — like that of the camelopard — is such that it finds 
great difficulty in reaching grass, or any other herbage, 
except where the latter chances to be very tall, or grows 
upon the declivity of a very steep hill. When it wishes 
to feed upon grass, the moose usually seeks it in such 
situations ; and it may often be seen browsing up the 
sides of a hill, with its legs spread widely on both sides 
of its neck. But its favourite food is found at a more 
convenient height, and consists of the young shoots of 
many species of trees. It prefers those of the poplar, 
the birch-tree, and willows^ and one kind of these 
last, the red willow, is its particular favourite. The 
269 


Zbc J^oung Do^aaeurs 


“ striped ” maple (Acer striatum) is also much relished 
by the moose— hence the name “ moose- wood,” by 
which this tree is known among the hunters. It loves 
also the common water-lilies (Nymphce) ; and in sum- 
mer it may be seen wading out into lakes, and pluck- 
ing up their succulent leaves. It takes to the water 
also for other purposes — to cool its body, and rid itself 
of several species of gnats and musquitoes that at this 
season torment it exceedingly. At such times it is 
more easily approached ; and the Indians hunt it in 
their canoes, and kill it in the water, both with spears 
and arrows. They never find the moose, however, in 
large numbers — for it is a solitary animal, and only 
associates in pairs during one part of the year, and in 
families at another season — as Basil now found it. In 
winter the Indians track it through the snow, following 
it upon snow-shoes. These give them the advantage 
of skimming along the surface, while the moose plunges 
through the deep drift, and is therefore impeded in its 
flight. Notwithstanding, it will frequently escape from 
the hunter, after a chase of several days' dtiration ! Some- 
times, in deep snow, a dozen or more of these animals 
will be found in one place, where they have got acci- 
dentall}^ together. The snow will be trodden down 
until the place appears as if enclosed by a wall. This 
the hunters term a “moose-pound,” and when found 
in such situations the moose are easily approached and 
surrounded — when a general battue takes place, in 


270 


an ©&b alarm 


which few or none of the animals are allowed to 
escape, 

I have said that Basil’s heart beat high at the sight 
of the moose. He was very desirous of killing one — 
partly on account of the novelty of the thing, and partly 
because he and his companions at the camp were anx- 
ious for a change of diet. Moose-meat was the very 
thing ; and he knew if he could return to camp with a 
few pieces of this strung over his gun, he would receive 
a double welcome. He was well aware that the flesh 
of the moose was of the most savoury and delicate kind, 
and that the long pendulous upper lip is one of the 
“ tit-bits” of the fur countries. Moreover, the fine 
hide would be an acceptable addition to their stock, 
as it is the best of all deerskins for moccasins as 
w^ell as snow-shoes — articles which Basil knew would 
soon be needed. For these reasons he was unusually 
desirous of killing one of the moose. 

He knew it would be difficult to approach them. He 
had heard that they were shyest at that very season — 
the beginning of winter — and indeed such is the case. 
No deer is so difficult to get a shot at as a moose in early 
winter. In summer it is not so — as then the musqui- 
toes torment these animals to such a degree that they 
pay less heed to other enemies, and the hunter can 
more easily approach them. In winter they are always 
on the alert. Their sense of smell— as well as of sight 
and hearing — is acute to an extreme degree, and they 

271 


Zbc l^ouuG IDo^ageurs 


are cunning besides. They can scent an enemy a long 
distance off— if the wind be in their favour — and the 
snapping of a twig, or the slightest rustle of the leaves, 
is sufficient to start them off. In their journeyings 
through the snow, when they wish to rest themselves, 
thej'' make a sort of detour^ and, coming back, lie down 
near the track which they have already passed over. 
This gives them an opportunity of hearing any enemy 
that may be following upon their trail, and also of 
making off in a side-direction, while the latter will be 
looking steadfastly ahead for them. 

Basil had heard of all these tricks of the moose — for 
many an old moose-hunter had poured his tale into 
Basil’s ear. He proceeded, therefore, with all due 
caution. He first buried his hand in his game-bag, 
and after a little groping brought out a downy feather 
which had chanced to be there. This he placed lightly 
upon the muzzle of his rifle, and having gently ele- 
vated the piece above his head, watched the feather. 
After a moment, the breeze carried it off, and Basil 
noted the direction it took. This is called, in hunter 
phrase, “tossing the feather,” and gave Basil the 
exact direction of the wind — an important knowledge 
in the present case. To Basil’s gratification he saw 
that it was blowing down the lake, and nearly towards 
himself. He was not exactly to leeward of the moose ; 
but, what was better still, the willows that fringed the 
lake were, for he could see them bending from 
272 


Hu ©bD Hlann 


the deer, as the breeze blew freshly. He knew he 
could easily get among the willows ; and as they were 
not yet quite leafless, and, moreover, were interspersed 
with tall reed grass, they formed a tolerable cover 
under which he might make his approach. 

Without losing time, then, he made for the willows, 
and placing them between himself and the game, 
commenced ‘ ‘ approaching ’ ’ along the shore of the 
lake. 

He had a full half-hour’s creeping — at one time upon 
his hands and knees — at another, crawling flat upon his 
breast like a gigantic lizard, and now and then, at 
favourable spots, walking in a bent attitude. A full 
half-hour was he, and much pain and patience did it 
cost him, before getting within shot. But Basil was a 
hunter, and knew both how to endure the pain and 
practise the patience — virtues that, in hunting as well 
as in many other occupations, usually meet with their 
reward. And Basil was likely to meet with his, for 
on parting the leaves, and looking cautiously through, 
he saw that he had arrived at the right spot. Within 
fifty yards of him he saw the high shoulders of the 
bull-moose and his great flat antlers towering over the 
tops of the willows, among the leaves of which the 
snout of the animal was buried. He also caught a 
glimpse of parts of the other three beyond ; but he 
thought only of the bull, and it was upon him that he 
kept his eyes fixed. Basil did not think of the quality 


^be ^oxxm IDoi^a^eurs 


of the meat, else he would have selected either the cow 
or one of the calves. Had it been buffaloes he would 
certainly have done so ; but as he had never killed 
a moose, he was determined to slay the leader of the 
herd. 

Indeed, had he wished to shoot one of the others, it 
might not have been so easy, as they were farther off, 
and he could only see the tops of their shoulders over 
the willows. Neither did the bull offer a fair mark. 
He stood face to face with the hunter, and Basil fancied 
that a shot on the frontal bone might not kill him. 
He knew it would not kill a buffalo. There was 
only one other part at which he could aim — the fore- 
shoulder; and after waiting some moments for the 
animal to give him a fairer chance, he took aim at this 
and fired. He heard a loud cracking of hoofs, as the 
cow and calves shambled off over the plain, but he 
saw that the bull was not with them. He was down 
behind the willows. No doubt he was dead. 


274 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


E^NCOUNTER WITH A MOOSE. 

HAT was a rare thing for Basil to do, he 



rushed forward without reloading his gun. 


A few springs brought him into the open ground, and 
in presence of the game. To his astonishment, the 
bull was not dead, nor down neither, but only upon 
his knees — of course wounded. Basil saw the* * crease ’ ’ 
of the bullet along the neck of the animal as he drew 
near. It was only by a quick glance that he saw this, 
for as soon as the bull saw him he rose to his full height 
— his eyes flashing like a tiger’s — and setting his ant- 
lers in a forward position, sprang upon the hunter. 
Basil leaped avSide to avoid the encounter ; and in the 
first rush was successful, but the animal turned sud- 
denly, and, coming up a second time, raised his fore- 
feet high in the air, and struck forward with his 
long-pointed hoofs. Basil attempted to defend himself 
with his rifle, but the piece was struck out of his hand 
in an instant. Once more avoiding the forward rush 
of the infuriated beast, the young hunter looked around 
for some object to save him. A tree fell under his eye, 


ZTbe J^ouno IDo^aaeurs 


and he ran towards it with all his speed. The moose 
followed close upon his heels, and he had just time to 
reach the tree and get around its trunk, when the 
animal brushed past, tearing the bark with his sharp 
antlers. Basil now slipped round the trunk, and when 
the moose again turned himself the two were on oppo- 
site sides of the tree ! The beast, however, rushed up, 
and struck the tree furiously first with his brow antlers, 
and then with his hoofs, uttering loud snorts, and at 
intervals a shrill whistling sound that was terrible to 
hear. The disappointment which the enraged animal 
felt, at seeing his enemy thus escape him, seemed to 
have added to his rage ; and he now vented his spite 
upon the tree, until the trunk, to the height of six feet, 
was completely stripped of its bark. While this was 
going on, Basil remained behind the tree, “ dodging ” 
round as the moose manoeuvred, and taking care always 
to have the animal on the opposite side. To have got 
into a safer situation he would have climbed the tree ; 
but it happened to be a poplar, without a branch for 
many feet from the ground, and of too great a girth to 
be “ embraced.” He could do nothing, therefore, but 
remain upon the ground, and keep the tree-trunk 
between himself and the bull. 

For nearly an hour this lasted, the moose now 
remaining at rest for a few minutes, and then making 
fresh onsets that seemed to abate nothing in their fury. 
His rage appeared to be implacable, and his vengeance 

276 


^Encounter with a /IDoose 


as tenacious as that of a tiger or any other beast of 
prey. The wound which the hunter had given him 
was no doubt painful, and kept his resentment from 
cooling. Unfortunately, it was not a mortal wound, as 
Basil had every opportunity of seeing. The bullet had 
hit the fore-shoulder ; but, after tearing along the skin, 
had glanced off without injuring the bone. It had 
only enraged the bull, without crippling him in the 
least degree. Basil began to dread the result. He 
was becoming faint with fatigue as well as hunger. 
When would he be relieved ? When would the fierce 
brute feel inclined to leave him ? These were questions 
which the hunter put to himself repeatedly, without 
being able to divine an answer. He had heard of hun- 
ters being killed by wounded moose. He had heard 
that these creatures will remain for days watching a 
person whom they may have “treed.” He could not 
stand it for days. He would drop down with fatigue, 
and then the bull would gore and trample him at pleas- 
ure. Would they be able to trace him from the camp ? 
They would not think of that before nightfall. They 
would not think of him as “lost” before that time; 
and then they could not follow his trail in the darkness, 
nor even in the light — for the ground was hard as a 
rock, and he had made no footmarks. Marengo might 
trace him. The dog had been left at the camp, as 
Basil preferred “still-hunting” without him. But in 
his present situation the hunter’s apprehensions were 
277 


tibe l^oung Dogageurs 


stronger than his hopes. Even Marengo might be 
baffled in lifting the scent. The trail was an exceed 
ingly devious one, for Basil had meandered round the 
sides of the hill in search of game. Deer or other 
animals might have since crossed it, which might mis- 
lead the hound. It would be cold at night, and much 
colder next morning. There were many chances that 
no relief might reach him from the camp. Impressed 
with this conviction, Basil began to feel serious alarm. 
Not despair, however — he was not the boy to despair. 
His mind only grew more alive to the necessity for 
action. He looked around to discover some means of 
escape. His gun lay not a hundred yards off. Could 
he only get hold of the piece, and return safely to the 
tree again ^ he could there load it and put an end to the 
scene at once. But to reach the gun was impossible. 
The moose would bound after and overtake him to a 
certainty. The idea of getting the gun was abandoned. 

In the opposite direction to that in which the gun 
lay, Basil perceived that there were other trees. The 
nearest was but a dozen yards from him ; and others, 
^g3,in, grew at about the same distance from that one, 
and from each other. Basil now conceived the idea of 
escaping to the nearest, and from that to the next, and 
by this means getting back into the thick forest. Once 
there, he believed that he would be the better able to 
effect his escape, and perhaps reach the camp by dodg- 
ing from tree to tree. He could beat the moose for a 
278 


Bncouuter with a /iDoose 


dozen yards — getting a little the start of him— and this 
he hoped to be able to do. Should he fail in his short 
race, however — should his foot slip — the alternative 
was fearful. It was no other than death ! 

He knew that, but it did not change his resolution to 
make the attempt. He only waited for the animal to 
work round between him and the tree towards which 
he intended to run. You will wonder that he did not 
prefer to have the moose on the other side. But he 
did not, for this reason — had the bull been there, he 
could have sprung after him at the first start ; whereas, 
when heading the other way, Basil believed he could 
brush close past, and gain an advantage, as the un- 
wieldy brute, taken by surprise, would require some 
time in turning himself to give chase. 

The opportunity at length arrived ; and nerving him- 
self for the race, the hunter sprang past the moose, 
brushing the ver}^ tips of its antlers. He ran without 
either stopping or even looking back, until he had 
reached the tree, and sheltered himself behind its trunk. 
The moose had followed, and arrived but the moment 
after, snorting and whistling furiously. Enraged at 
the ruse, it attacked this tree, as it had the other, with 
hoof and horns ; and Basil nimbly evaded both by 
keeping on the opposite side, as before. 

In a few minutes he prepared himself for a second 
rush, and once more started. A third tree was reached 
in safety — and then a fourth, and a fifth, and many 
279 


Ubc 19 oung Dopa^eurs 


others, in a similar manner — the moose all the while 
following in hot pursuit. Basil had begun to hope 
that in this way he would get off, when, to his chagrin, 
he saw that an open space still intervened between him 
and the thick woods, upon which there were only a few 
trees, and those so small that not one of them would 
have sheltered him. This tract was full two hundred 
yards in width, and extended all along the edge of the 
thick forest. He dared not cross it. The moose would 
overtake him before he could get half the way ; and he 
was obliged to give up the idea of making the attempt. 

As he stood behind the last tree he had reached, he 
saw that it branched, and the lowest branches grew but 
a little above his head. He could easily climb it, and 
at once resolved to do so. He would there be safe for 
the time, and could at least rest himself, for he was 
now weak with fatigue. He, therefore, stretched up 
his hands, and, laying hold of a branch, swung him- 
self up into the tree. Then climbing up a little higher, 
he sat down on one of the forks. 

The moose appeared as furious as ever ; and ran 
round the tree, now striking it with his horns, and then 
rearing upon his hind-legs, and pouncing against the 
trunk with his hoofs. At times his snout was so close 
to Basil, that the latter could almost touch it ; and he 
had even drawn his hunting-knife, and reached down 
with the intent of giving the creature a stab. 

This last action led to a train of thought, and Basil 
280 



BASIL AND THE MOOSE BULL, 



Bncounter with a /iDoose 


seemed suddenly to adopt some new resolution. Leav- 
ing the fork where he had perched himself, he climbed 
higher up the tree ; and, selecting one of the longest 
and straightest branches, commenced cutting it off 
close to the trunk. This was soon effected ; and then, 
drawing it along his knee, he trimmed off all the twngs 
and tops until the branch became a straight pole, like a 
spear-handle. Along one end of this he laid the handle 
of his knife ; and with thongs, which he had already 
cut out of the strap of his bullet-pouch, he spliced the 
knife and pole together. This gave him a formidable 
weapon — for the knife was a ‘ ‘ bowie, ’ ’ and had a long 
blade, with a point like a rapier. He was not slow in 
using it. Descending again to the lowermost limbs, 
he commenced making demonstrations, in order to bring 
the moose within reach. This he very soon succeeded 
in doing ; and the animal ran forward and reared up 
against the tree. Before it could get upon its four legs 
again, Basil had thrust it in the neck, giving full force 
to the blow. The blood rushed forth in a thick stream, 
as the jugular vein had been cut by the keen blade ; 
and the huge brute was seen to totter in its steps, and 
then fall with a dull heavy sound to the earth . In a 
few moments the hunter had the satisfaction of perceiv- 
ing that it was quite dead. 

Basil now dropped out of the tree, and walking back 
to where his rifle lay, took up the piece and carefully 
reloaded it. He then returned to the moOvSe, and open- 
281 


XTbe 13oung Do^ageurs 


iiig the great jaws of the animal, gagged them with a 
stick. He next unspliced his knife, took off the gristly 
lips, and cut out the tongue. These he placed in his 
game-bag, and shouldering his rifle, was about to de- 
part ; when some new idea caused him to halt, put 
down his gun, and again unsheath his knife. Once 
more approaching the carcass, he made an incision 
near the kidneys ; and having inserted his hand, drew 
forth what appeared to be a part of the intestines. It 
was the bladder. He then looked around as if in 
search of something. Presently his eye rested upon 
some tall reed-grass that was growing near. This was 
just what he wanted, and, pulling up one of the stems, 
he cut and fashioned it into a pipe. With this the 
moose-bladder was blown out to its full dimensions, 
and tied at the neck by a piece of thong. The other 
end of the thong was fastened to one of the branches of 
the tree above, so that the bladder dangled within a few 
feet of the carcass of the moose, dancing about with the 
lightest breath of wind. All these precautions Basil 
had taken to keep the wolves from devouring the 
moose— for it was his intention to return and butcher 
it as soon as he could get help. When he had hung 
the bladder to his liking, he put up his knife again ; 
and, once more shouldering his rifle, walked off. 

On reaching the camp— which he did shortly after — 
the tongue of the moose was broiled without delay, 
and, after making a delicious meal of it, the whole 
282 


lEncounter with a /IDoose 


party went off for the remainder of the meat. They 
found it all quite safe ; although, had it not been 
for the bladder, not much of it would have been there 
— as no less than a dozen great gaunt wolves were seen 
lurking about, and these would have eaten it up in 
the shortest possible time. The bladder, however, 
had kept them off ; for, strange to say, these creat- 
ures, who are as cunning as foxes, and can hardly be 
trapped, can yet be deceived and frightened by such a 
simple thing as a bladder dangling from a branch. 

The moose proved to be one of the largest of his 
kind. His height was quite equal to that of a horse ; 
and his horns, flattened out to the breadth of shovels, 
weighed over sixty pounds. His carcass was not less 
than fifteen hundred pounds weight ; and our voy- 
ageurs had to make two journeys to convey the meat to 
their camp. On the last journey, Francois brought 
the porcupine as well — having found it on the very 
same tree where Basil had left it ! 


283 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


WFE) IN A lyOG-HUT. 


HE log-hut was finished on the ist of Sep- 



tember, and not a day too soon ; for on that 


very day the winter set in with full severity. A 
heavy fall of snow came down in the night ; and 
next morning, when our voyageurs looked abroad, the 
ground was covered to the depth of a foot, or more ; 
and the ice upon the lake was also white. Walking 
through the great wreaths now became very difficult ; 
and the next thing to be done was the making of 
“ snow-shoes.” 

Snow-shoes are an invention of the Indians ; and, in 
the winter of the Arctic regions of America, are an 
article almost as indispensable as clothing itself. With- 
out them, travelling a-foot would be impossible. In 
these countries, as already stated, the snow often covers 
the ground to the depth of many feet ; and remains 
without any considerable diminution for six, and, in 
some years, eight or nine months. At times, it is 
frozen hard enough on the surface to bear a man with- 
out the snow-shoes ; but oftener, on account of thaws 


Xtfe in a %0Q^1b\xt 


and fresh falls, it becomes quite soft, and at such times 
travelling over it is both difficult and dangerous. To 
avoid both the difficulty and the danger, the Indians 
make use of this very singular sort of foot-wear — called 
“ snow-shoes ” by the English, and “ raquets ” by the 
Canadian voyageurs. They are used by all the Indian 
tribes of the Hudson’s Bay territory ; and w^ere it not 
for them these people would be confined to one place 
for months together, and could not follow the deer or 
other game. As almost all savages are improvident, 
and none more so than the North American Indians, 
were they prevented for a season from going out to 
hunt, whole tribes would starve. Indeed, many indi- 
viduals of them perish with hunger as it is : and the 
life of all these Indians is nothing more than one con- 
tinued struggle for food enough to sustain them. In 
summer they are often in the midst of plenty ; 
slaughtering deer and buffalo by hundreds, taking out 
only the tongues, and recklessly leaving the flesh to 
the wolves ! In winter the very same Indians may be 
seen without a pound of meat in their encampment — 
the lives of themselves and their families depending 
upon the success of a single day’s hunt ! 

But let us return to the snow-shoes. Eet us see what 
they are, and learn how they are made. 

Any boy who has snared sparrows in snow-time, has, 
no doubt, done so by tying his snares upon a hoop 
netted across with twine or other small cord. Now, if 
285 


Ubc l^ouno IDopaaeurs 


he will conceive his hoop bent into an oblong shape — 
something like what the figure of a boat turned on its 
mouth would make in snow — and if he will also fancy 
the netting to consist of thongs of twisted deer-hide 
woven somewhat closely together, he will get a very 
good idea of an Indian snow-shoe. It is usually from 
three to four feet long, by about a foot wide at the 
middle part, from which it tapers gently to a point, 
both at the heel and toe. The frame, as I have said, 
is like the hoop of a boy’s bird-snare. It is made of 
light, tough wood, and, of course, carefully bent and 
polished with the knife. The slender.branches of the 
“scrub-pine” (Pinus Banksiayia) are esteemed excel- 
lent for this purpose, as their wood is light, flexible, and 
tough in its fibres. This is also a favourite tree, where 
it grows, to make tent-poles, canoe-timbers, and other 
implements required by the Indians ; and these people 
use so much of it for their arrows, that it has received 
from the Canadian voyageurs the name of bois de flhhe 
(arrow- wood). 

Well, then, the frame of the snow-shoes being bent 
to its proper shape, two transverse bars are placed 
across near the middle, and several inches from each 
other. They are for the foot to rest upon, as well as to 
give strength to the whole structure. These being 
made fast, the netting is woven on, and extends over 
the whole frame, with the exception of a little space in 
front of the bars where the ball of the foot is to rest. 

286 


%itc in a %0Q^1bx\t 


This space is left free of netting, in order to allow play 
to the toes while walking. The mesh-work is made of 
thongs usually cut from the parchment-skin of a deer, 
and twisted. Sometimes twisted intestines are used, 
and the netting exactly resembles that seen in ‘ ‘ rac- 
quets ” for ball play. 

The snow-shoe, when finished, is simply fastened 
upon the foot by means of straps or thongs ; and a pair 
of them thus placed will present a surface to the snow 
of nearly six square feet — more, if required, by mak- 
ing them larger. But this is enough to sustain the 
heaviest man upon the softest snow, and an Indian 
thus “ shod ” will skim over the surface like a skater. 

The shoes used by all tribes of Indians are not alike 
in shape. There are fashions and fancies in this respect. 
Some are made — as among the Chippewa Indians — 
with one side of the frame nearly straight ; and these, 
of course, will not do for either foot, but are ‘ ‘ rights 
and lefts.” Generally, however, the shape is such that 
the snow-shoe will fit either foot. 

The snow-shoes having now become a necessary 
thing, our young voyageurs set about making a com- 
plete set for the whole party — that is, no less than four 
pairs. Norman was the “shoemaker,” and Norman 
knew how. He could splice the frames, and work in 
the netting, equal to an Indian squaw. Of course all 
the others assisted him. Tucien cut the moose-skin 
into fine regular strips ; Basil waded off through the 
287 


tlbe l^oung IDo^aaeurs 


snow, and procured the frames from the wood of the 
scrub-pine trees where he had encountered the porcu- 
pine ; and then he and Francois trimmed them with 
their knives, and sweated them in the hot ashes until 
they became dry, and ready for the hands of the 
‘ ‘ shoemaker. ’ ’ 

This work occupied them several days, and then each 
had a pair of shoes fitted to his size and weight. 

The next consideration was to lay in a stock of meat. 
The moose had furnished them with enough for present 
use, but that would not last long, as there was no 
bread nor anything else to eat with it. Persons in 
their situation require a great deal of meat to sustain 
them, much more than those who live in great cities, 
who eat a variety of substances, and drink many kinds 
of drinks. The healthy voyageur is rarely without 
a keen appetite ; and meat b}- itself is a food that 
speedily digests, and makes way for a fresh meal ; so 
that the ration usuall}^ allowed to the employis of the 
fur companies would appear large enough to supply the 
table of several families. For instance, in some parts 
of the Hudson’s Bay territory, the voyageur is allowed 
eight pounds of buffalo meat per diem ! And yet it is all 
eaten by him, and sometimes deemed barely sufficient. 
A single deer, therefore, or even a buffalo, lasts a part}^ 
of voyageurs for a very short time, since they have no 
other substance, such as bread or vegetables, to help it 
out. It was necessary, then, that our travellers should 
288 



» 


THE LOG HOUSE. 




%iU in a Xo0=1[3ut 


use all their diligence in laying up a stock of dried 
meat, before the winter became too cold for them to 
hunt. There was another consideration — their cloth- 
ing. They all had clothing sufficient for such weather 
as they had yet experienced ; but that would never do 
for the winter of the Great Slave Take, and they knew 
it. Many deer must be killed, and many hides dressed, 
before they could make a full set of clothing for all, as 
well as a set of deer-skin blankets, which would be 
much needed. 

As soon as the snow-shoes were finished, therefore, 
Basil and Norman went out each day upon long hunt- 
ing expeditions, from which they rarely returned before 
^nightfall. Sometimes they brought with them a deer, 
of the caribou or reindeer species, and the “ woodland ” 
variety, which were plenty at this place. They only 
carried to camp the best parts with the skin, as the 
flesh of the woodland caribou is not much esteemed. 
It is larger than the other kind — the ‘ ‘ Barren Ground 
caribou,” weighing about one hundred and fifty 
pounds ; but both its venison and hide are of inferior 
quality to those of the latter species. Sometimes our 
hunters killed smaller game ; and on several occasions 
they returned without having emptied their guns at 
all. But there was one day that made up for several — 
one grand day wffien they were extremely successful, 
and on which they killed a whole herd of moose, con- 
sisting of five individuals — the old bull, a spike buck — 


Ubc Iffouno Dopaaeurs 


that is, a young buck, whose horns had not yet got 
antlers upon them — the cow, and two calves. These 
they had tracked and followed for a long distance, and 
had succeeded, at length, in running into a valley 
where the snow was exceedingly deep, and where the 
moose became entangled. There had been a shower 
of rain the day before that had melted the surface of 
the snow ; and this had again frozen into an icy crust, 
upon which the deer lacerated their ankles at every 
plunge, leaving a track of blood behind them as they 
ran. Under these circumstances they were easily 
trailed, and Basil and Norman, skimming along upon 
their snow-shoes, soon came up with them, and shot 
first one and then another, until the whole herd were 
stretched in the valley. They then butchered them, 
and hung the hides and quarters upon high branches, 
so as to secure them from wolves and wolverenes. 
When the job was finished, the whole place looked 
like a great slaughter-yard ! Next day a rude sledge 
was constructed ; and the voyageurs, returning in full 
force, transported the meat to camp. Huge fires were 
kindled outside the hut, and several days were spent 
in cutting up and drying the flesh. Had our travellers 
been certain that the frost would have continued all 
winter, this would not have been necessary — since the 
meat was already frozen as hard as a brick. But they 
knew that a sudden thaw would spoil it ; and, as there 
was plenty of good firewood on the spot, they 
290 


%itc ill a Xog=t)ut 


were not going to run the risk of losing it in that 
way. 

They had now enough provision to last them for 
months ; and hunting became no longer necessary, 
except to obtain fresh meat — which was, of course, 
preferable to the dry stock. Hunting, also, gave them 
exercise and amusement — both of which were necessary 
to their health ; for to remain idle and inactive in a 
situation such as that in which the}^ were placed is the 
worst possible plan, and is sure to engender both sick- 
ness and ennui. Indeed, the last grew upon them, not- 
withstanding all the pains they took to prevent it. 
There were days on which the cold was so extreme, 
that they could not put their noses out of the door with- 
out the danger of having them frost-bitten— although 
each had now a complete suit of deer-skin clothing, 
made by Tucien, the “ tailor” of the party. Upon 
such days they were fain to remain shut up in their 
hut ; and, seated around their huge log-fire, they passed 
the time in cleaning their guns, mending their nets, 
stitching their clothes, and such-like employments. 
These days were far from being their dullest ; for, what 
with the varied and scientific knowledge of Tucien, 
which he took pleasure in imparting to his companions 
— what with the practical experience of Norman amid 
scenes of Arctic life, and the many “ voyageur tales” 
he could tell — what with Francois’ merry jokes and bon 
mots — and what with Basil’s taleyitfor listening — not the 


291 


Ube ^omQ IDo^ageurs 


least important element is a good conversazione ^ — our 
quartette of young voyageurs found their indoor days 
anything but dull. 

This was all well enough for a while. For a month 
or two they bore their odd kind of life cheerfully 
enough ; but the prospect of nearly six months more 
of it began to appal them, when they reflected upon 
it ; and they soon found themselves longing for a 
change. Hunting adventures, that at other times would 
have interested them, now occurred without creating 
any excitement ; and the whole routine of their em- 
ployments seemed monotonous. Nearly all of them 
were boys of an active character of mind ; and most of 
them were old enough to reason about the value of time. 
Their idea of such a long isolation from civilised life, 
and, above all, the being debarred from following any 
useful pursuit, began to impress some of them forcibly. 
Others, as Fran9ois, could not be contented for a very 
great stretch of time with any sort of life ; so that all of 
them began to sigh for a change. 

One day, while conversing upon this theme, a bold 
proposal was made by Basil. It was, that they should 
“ strike camp,” and continue their journey. This pro- 
posal took the others by surprise, but they were all just 
in the frame of mind to entertain and discuss it ; and 
a long consultation was held upon the point. Francois 
chimed in with the proposal at once ; while Lucien, 
more cautious, did not exactly oppose, but rather offered 


292 


3Li(e in a Xog*1but 


the reasons that were against it, and pointed out the 
perils of the undertaking. Norman, of course, was 
appealed to — all of them looking to him as one whose 
advice, upon that question at least, was more valuable 
than their own. 

Norman admitted the dangers pointed out by I^ucien, 
but believed that they might overcome them by a 
proper caution. On the whole, Norman approved of 
the plan, and it was at length adopted. Perhaps Nor- 
man’s habitual prudence was to some extent influenced 
on this occasion by the very natural desire he had of 
returning to what he considered his home. He had 
now been absent nearly two years, and was desirous of 
once more seeing his father and his old companions at 
the Fort. There was another feeling that influenced 
nearly all of them : that was ambition. They knew 
that to make such a journey would be something of a 
feat, and they wished to have the credit of performing 
it. To minds like that of Basil, even the danger had 
something attractive in it. It was resolved then to 
break up the encampment, and continue their journey. 


2Q3 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


TRAVKI.I.ING ON SNOW-SHOKS. 

NCE their resolution was taken, they lost but 



little time in making preparations to carry it 


out. Most of the articles required for such a j ourney 
were already in their hands. They had the proper 
dresses — snow-shoes, skin-blankets, and gloves. They 
had prepared for themselves sets of “ snow-spectacles.” 
These were made out of red cedar-wood. Each pair 
consisted of two small thin pieces, that covered the 
eyes, joined together and fastened on by thongs of 
buckskin. In each piece an oblong slit served for the 
eye-hole, through which the eye looked without being 
dazzled by the snow. Without this, or some like con- 
trivance, travelling in the Arctic regions is painful to 
the eyes, and the traveller often loses his sight. Indeed, 
one of the most common infirmities of both the Indians 
and Esquimaux of these parts is blindness or soreness of 
the eyes, caused by the reflection of the sunbeams from 
the crystals of the frozen snow. Norman was aware 
of this, and had made the spectacles to guard against 
this peril. Out of their spare skins they had made 
a small tent. This was to be carried along by Marengo 


XTravelltug on Snows^Sboes 


in a light sledge, which they had long since constructed, 
and taught the dog to draw. Nothing else remained 
but to pack their provisions in the smallest bulk pos- 
sible, and this was done, according to the custom of 
the country, by making “pemmican.” The dry meat 
was first pounded until it became a powder ; it was 
then put into small skin bags, made for the purpose, 
and the hot melted fat was poured in and well mixed 
with it. This soon froze hard, and the mixture — that 
resembled “potted meat” — was now ready for use, 
and would keep for an indefinite time without the least 
danger of spoiling. Buffalo- beef, moose-meat, or veni- 
son of any sort, thus prepared, is called pemmican^^'' 
and is more portable in this shape than any other. 
Besides, no further cooking is required — an important 
consideration upon those vast prairie deserts, where 
fire-wood is seldom to be procured without the trouble 
of carrying it a great distance. 

Norman, who was the maker of the pemmican, had 
produced a superior article upon this occasion. Besides 
the pounded meat and fat, he had mixed another 
ingredient with it, which rendered it a most delicious 
food. This third ingredient was a small purple- 
coloured berry — of which we have already spoken — 
not unlike the whortleberry, but sweeter and of a 
higher flavour. It grows through most of the Northern 
regions of America ; and in some places, as upon the 
Red River and the Elk, the bushes that produce it are 


Ube 13 ouna IDoi^aaeurs 


seen in great plenty. When in flower, they appear 
almost white, so thickly are they covered with blos- 
soms. The leaves are small, and generally of an oval 
shape ; but there are several varieties of the bush, some 
of them having the dimeiivSions and form of trees, of 
twenty-five feet in height. The berries have received 
different names in different parts of America. They are 
known as “shad-berries,” “ June-berries,” “service- 
berries,” and by the Canadian voyageurs they are 
called ‘ ‘ le poire. ’ ’ Even the botanists have given 
them a great variety of names, as pyrus, mespilus, 
aronia^ crat(Bgus^ and amelanchier. No matter which 
may be the best name, it is enough to know that these 
little berries are delicious to eat when fresh, and when 
dried, after the manner of currants, are excellent to 
mix in puddings, as well as in pemmican. 

Previous to the setting in of winter, our voyageurs 
had collected a large bagful upon the banks of the Elk, 
which they had dried and stored away — expecting to 
stand in need of them for this very purpose. They 
now came into use, and enabled Norman to make his 
pemmican of the very choicest quality. Five bags of 
it were put up, each weighing over thirty pounds. 
One of these was to be drawn upon the sledge, along 
with the tent, the axe, and a few other articles. The 
rest were to be carried by the voyageurs themselves — 
each shouldering one, which, along with their guns 
and accoutrements, would be load enough. 

296 


TTravelUng on Snow^^Sboes 


These arrangements being at length complete, the 
party bid adieu to their log-hut — gave a parting look 
to their little canoe, which still rested by the door — 
and then, shouldering their guns and bags of pemmi- 
can, set out over the frozen surface of the snow. 

Of course before starting they had decided upon the 
route they were to take. This decision, however, had 
not been arrived at until after much discussion, 
lyucien advised that they should follow the shore of the 
lake until they should reach the Mackenzie River — 
which of course was now frozen up. Its channel, he 
argued, would then guide them ; and, in case their 
provisions should run short, they would be more 
likely to find game upon its banks than elsewhere, as 
these were wooded almost to the sea — in consequence 
of its head-waters rising in southern latitudes, and 
carrying with them a warmer climate. 

There was plausibility in Rucien’s argument, com- 
bined with much prudence. Norman, however, ad- 
vised a contrary course. He said that they would 
have to make a considerable journey westward before 
reaching the place where the Mackenzie River flows 
out of the lake; and, moreover, he knew that the 
river itself was very crooked — in some places winding 
about in great curves, whose ends come near meeting 
each other. Should they keep the course of the river, 
Norman believed it would almost double their journey. 
A much shorter route, he said, would be obtained by 
297 


XTbe ]3ouno IDo^a^eurs 


striking across the country in a north-westerly direc- 
tion, so as to reach the Mackenzie near where another 
great stream — the River of the Mountains — empties 
into it from the west. This would certainly be a more 
direct route, and they would avoid the windings of 
the river channel. 

Norman’s reasoning prevailed. Basil and Francois 
readily agreed to his plan, and Lucien at length also 
gave his assent, but with some reluctance. Norman 
knew nothing whatever of the route he was advising 
them to take. His former journeys up and down the 
Mackenzie had been made in summer, and of course he 
had travelled by canoe, in company with the traders 
and voyageurs. He only knew that to strike across 
the country would be the shorter way. But “the 
shortest way is not always the nearest,” says the 
proverb ; and although Lucien remembered this 
prudent maxim, the others did not give it a thought. 
Before the end of their journey they received a practical 
lesson of its wisdom — a lesson they were not likely to 
forget. But they knew not what was before them, 
and they started off in high spirits. 

Their first three or four days’ journeys were without 
any event worth being chronicled. They travelled 
full twenty miles each day. The Southerners had 
become quite skilful in the management of their snow- 
shoes, and they skimmed along upon the icy crust at 
the rate of three or four miles an hour. Marengo and 
2g8 


UravelUno on Snows=Sboes 


his sledge gave them very little trouble. There was full 
sixty pounds weight upon it ; but to the huge dog 
this was a mere bagatelle, and he pulled it after him 
without any great strain. His harness was neatly 
made of moose-skin, and consisted of a collar with a 
back strap and traces— the traces meeting behind, 
where they were attached to the head of the sledge. 
No head-gear was necessary, as Marengo needed not to 
be either led or driven. The sledge consisted of two or 
three light planks of smooth wood, laid alongside each 
other, and held together by transverse bands. In 
front it turned up with a circular sweep, so as not to 
‘ ‘ plough ’ ’ the snow ; and at the top of this curved 
part the traces were adjusted. The load was, of 
course, carefully packed and tied, so that the overturn- 
ing of the vehicle did no damage whatever, and it 
could be easily righted again. Marengo required no 
one to guide him, but followed quietly in the tracks of 
the snow-shoes, and thus avoided the trees, rocks, and 
other inequalities. If a rabbit or other creature started 
up, Marengo knew better than to go galloping after it ; 
he felt that he had a more important duty to perform 
than to throw away his time upon rabbit-hunting. 
Kach night a spot was chosen for the camp by the side 
of some lake or stream, where wood could be obtained 
for their fire. Water was got by breaking a hole in the 
ice, and the little tent was always set up in a sheltered 
situation. 


299 


trbe l^oung tDo^ageurs 


upon the fifth day after leaving the log-hut the woods 
began to grow thinner and more straggling ; and tow- 
ards night of the same day they found themselves trav- 
elling through a country, where the timber only grew 
here and there in small clumps, and the individual 
trees were small and stunted. Next day still less tim- 
ber was seen upon their route ; and when camping- 
time came, they were obliged to halt at a spot where 
nothing but willows could be procured for their fire. 
They had, in fact, arrived upon the edge of that vast 
wilderness, the Barren Grounds, which stretches in all 
its wild desolation along the Northern half of the 
American continent (from the Great Slave Lake even 
to the shores of the Arctic Sea on the north, and to those 
of Hudson’s Bay on the east). This territory bears an 
appropriate name, for, perhaps, upon the whole surface 
of the earth there is no tract more barren or desolate — 
not even the Saara of Africa. Both are deserts of im- 
mense extent, equally difficult to cross, and equall}^ dan- 
gerous to the traveller. On both the traveller often 
perishes, but from different causes. On the Saara it is 
thirst that kills ; upon the Barren Grounds hunger is 
more frequently the destroyer. In the latter there is 
but little to be feared on the score of water. That ex- 
ists in great plenty ; or where it is not found, snow 
supplies its place. But there is water everywhere. 
Hill succeeds hill, bleak, rocky, and bare. Everywhere 
granite, gneiss, or other primitive rocks, show them- 


300 


UravelUn^ on Snow=Sboe6 


selves. No vegetation covers the steep declivities of 
the hills, except the moss and linchen upon the rocks, 
a few willows upon the banks of streams, the dwarf 
birch-tree (^Betula nand), or the scrub-pines, rising only 
to the height of a few inches, and often straggling over 
the earth like vines. Kvery hill has its valley, and 
every valley its lake — dark, and deep, and silent — in 
winter scarce to be distinguished under the snow-cov- 
ered ice. The prospect in every direction exhibits a 
surface of rocks, or bleak hills, half covered with snow. 
The traveller looks around and sees no life. He listens 
and hears no sound. The world appears dead and 
wrapped in its cold winding-sheet ! 

Amidst just such scenes did our voyageurs find them- 
selves on the seventh day after parting from the lake. 
They had heard of the Barren Grounds, — had heard 
many fearful stories of the sufferings of travellers who 
had attempted to cross them ; but the description had 
fallen far short of the actual reality. None of them 
could believe in the difl&culties to be encountered, and 
the desolateness of the scene they were to witness, un- 
til now that they found themselves in its midst ; and, 
as they proceeded on their journey, getting farther 
and farther from the wooded region, their apprehen- 
sions, already aroused by the wild aspect of the coun- 
try, grew stronger and stronger. They began to 
entertain serious fears, for they knew not how far the 
barren tract extended along their route. On calculation 
301 


Ube ^onm IDoi^aGCUts 


they found they had provisions enough to last them for 
a month. That in some measure restored their confi- 
dence ; but even then, they could not help giving way 
to serious reflections. Should they get lost or retarded 
in their course by mountains, or other obstacles, it 
might take them longer than a month to reach some 
place where game was to be met with. Each day, as 
they advanced, they found the country more hilly and 
difiicult. Precipices often bounded the valleys, lying 
directly across their track ; and as these could not be 
scaled, it was necessary to make long dHours to pass 
them, so that some days they actually advanced less 
than five miles upon their journey. 

Notwithstanding these impediments, they might still 
have got over the Barren Grounds without further suf- 
fering than the fatigue and necessary exposure to cold ; 
but at this time an incident occurred, that not only 
frustrated all their calculations, but placed them in 
imminent danger of perishing. 


302 


CHAPTER XXX. 


the; barrkn grounds. 



HE Barren Grounds are not entirely destitute of 


X animal life. Even in winter — when they are 
almost covered with snow, and you would suppose 
that no living creature could procure subsistence upon 
them — even then they have their denizens ; and, 
strange to say, there are many animals that choose 
them for their home. There is no part of the earth’s 
surface so sterile but that some animated being can find 
a living upon it, and such a being Nature adapts to its 
peculiar situation. For instance, there are animals 
that prefer the very desert itself, and would not thrive 
were you to place them in a country of mild climate 
and fertile soil. In our own species this peculiarity is 
also found — as the Esquimaux would not be happy 
were you to transplant him from his icy hut amidst 
the snows of the Arctic regions, and give him a palace 
under the genial skies of Italy. 

Among other creatures that remain all winter upon 
the Barren Grounds are the wolves. How they exist 
there is almost a question of the naturalists. It is true 


Zbc l^omiG IDopa^eurs 


they prey upon other animals found at times in the 
same district ; but wolves have been met with where 
not the slightest traces of other living creatures could 
be seen ! 

There is no animal more generally distributed over 
the earth’s surface than the wolf. He exists in nearly 
every country, and most likely has at one time existed 
in all. In America there are wolves in its three zones. 
They are met with from Cape Horn to the farthest point 
northward that man has reached. They are common 
in the tropical forests of Mexico and South America. 
They range over the great prairies of the temperate 
zones of both divisions of the continent, and in the 
colder regions of the Hudson’s Bay territory they are 
among the best known of wild animals. They frequent 
the mountains, they gallop over the plains, they skulk 
through the valleys, they dwell everywhere — every- 
where the wolf seems equally at home. In North 
America two very different kinds are known. One is 
the “prairie” or “barking” wolf, which we have 
already met with and described. The other species is 
the “common ” or “ large” wolf ; but it is not de- 
cided among naturalists that there are not several dis- 
tinct species of the latter. At all events, there are 
several varieties of it — distinguished from each other in 
size, colour, and even to some extent in form. The 
habits of all, however, appear to be similar, and it is a 
question, whether any of these varieties be permanent 
304 





"^r 

'.A? 


\ 
















ENTERING THE BARRENS. 







Ube Barren (Brounbs 


or only accidental. Some of them, it is well known, 
are accidental — as wolves differing in colour have been 
found in the same litter— but late explorers, of the 
countries around and beyond the Rocky Mountains, 
have discovered one or two kinds that appear to be 
specifically distinct from the common wolf of America 
— one of them, the “ dusky wolf,” being much larger. 

This last is said to resemble the wolf of Europe (the 
Pyrenean wolf, Canis lupus) more than the other 
American wolves do — for there is a considerable differ- 
ence between the wolves of the two continents. Those 
of the Northern regions of America have shorter ears, 
a broader snout and forehead, and are of a stouter 
make, than the European wolves. Their fur, too, is 
finer, denser, and longer ; their tails more bushy and 
fox-like ; and their feet broader. The European wolf, 
on the contrary, is characterised by a gaunt appearance, 
a pointed snout, long jaws, high ears, long legs, and 
feet very narrow. It is possible, notwithstanding 
these points of difference, that both may be of the 
same species, the difference arising from a want of 
similitude in the circumstances by which they are 
surrounded. For instance, the dense wool of the 
Hudson’s Bay wolf may be accounted for by the 
fact of its colder habitat, and its broader feet 
may be the result of its having to run much upon 
the surface of the snow. The writer of this little 
book believes that this peculiar adaptation of Na- 


Ubc 13 ouno IDopaaeurs 


ture — which may be observed in all her kingdoms 
— may explain the difference that exists between the 
wolves of the Northern parts of America and those of 
the South of Europe. He believes, moreover, that those 
of the Southern parts of the American continent approx- 
imate more tiearly to the Pyrenean wolves, as he has 
seen in the tropical forests of Mexico some that pos- 
sessed all that “ gaunt ” form and “ sneaking ” aspect 
that characterise the latter. It would be interesting to 
inquire whether the wolves of Siberia and Eapland, 
inhabiting a similar climate to that of the Northern 
parts of America, do not possess the same peculiarities 
as the North American kind — a point which natural- 
ists have not yet considered, and which you, my boy 
reader, may some day find both amusement and in- 
struction in determining for yourself. 

With regard to colour the wolves of both continents 
exhibit many varieties. In North America there are 
more than half a dozen colours of them, all receiving 
different names. There is the “grey wolf,” the 
“white,” the “brown,” the “dusky,” the “pied,” 
and the “black.” These trivial names will give a 
good enough idea of the colours of each kind, but 
there are even varieties in their markings. “ Yellow ” 
wolves, too, have been seen, and “red” ones, and 
some of a “cream colour.” Of all these the grey 
wolf is the most common, and is par excellence the 
wolf ; but there are districts in which individuals of 
306 


XTbe Barren Grounbs 


other colours predominate. Wolves purely black are 
plenty in many parts, and white wolves are often seen 
in large packs. 

Even those of the same colour differ in size, and 
that to a considerable extent. And, what is also 
strange, large wolves will be found in one district of 
country, while much smaller ones of the same colour and 
species inhabit another. The largest in size of Ameri- 
can wolves are about six feet in length, the tail in- 
cluded ; and about three feet in height, measuring to 
the tips of the standing fur. The tail is usually about 
one- third of the whole length. 

The habits of the American wolf are pretty much 
like those of his European cousin. He is a beast of 
prey, devouring all the smaller animals he can lay 
hold of. He pursues and overtakes the deer, and often 
runs down the fox and makes a meal of it. He will 
kill and eat Indian dogs, although these are so near 
his own species that the one is often taken for the 
other. But this is not all, for he will even eat his own 
kind, on a pinch. He is as cunning as the fox himself, 
and as cowardly ; but at times, when impelled by 
hunger, he becomes bolder, and has been known to 
attack man. Instances of this kind, however, are rare. 

The American wolves burrow, and, like the fox, 
have several entrances to their holes. A litter of 
young wolves numbers five puppies, but as many as 
eight are often produced at one birth. 

307 


XTbe 13oung IDo^aoeurs 


During their journey through the Barren Grounds 
our voyageurs had frequently observed wolves. They 
were mostly grey ones, and of great size, for they were 
travelling through a district where the very largest 
kind is found. At times they saw a party of five or 
six together ; and these appeared to be following upon 
their trail — as each night, when they came barking 
about the camp, our travellers recognised some of them 
as having been seen before. They had made no at- 
tempt to shoot any of them— partly because they did 
not want either their skins or flesh, and partly because 
their ammunition had been reduced to a small quantity, 
and they did not wish to spend it unnecessarily. The 
wolves, therefore, were allowed to approach very near 
the camp, and howl as much as they liked— which they 
usually did throughout the livelong night. What they 
found to allure them after our travellers, the latter 
could not make out ; as they had not shot an animal 
of any kind since leaving the lake, and scarcely a scrap 
of anything was ever left behind them. Perhaps the 
wolves were living upon hope. 

One evening our travellers had made their camp on 
the side of a ridge — which they had just crossed — and 
under the shelter of some rough, rocks. There was no 
wood in the neighbourhood wherewith to make a fire ; 
but they had scraped the snow from the place over 
which their tent was pitched, and under it their skins 
were spread upon the ground. As the tent was a very 
308 


tTbe JSarren (Brounbs 


small one, Marengo’s sledge, with the utensils and 
pemmican bags, was always left outside close by the 
opening. Marengo himself slept there, and that was 
considered sufficient to secure all these things from 
wolves, or any other creatures that might be prowling 
about. 

On the evening in question, the sledge was in its 
usual place — the dog having been taken from it — and 
as our voyageurs had not yet had their supper, the 
pemmican bags were lying loosely about, one or two 
of them being open. There was a small rivulet at the 
foot of the ridge — some two hundred paces distant — 
and Basil and Francois had gone down to it to get 
water. One of them took the axe to break the ice 
with, while the other carried a vessel. On arriving 
near the bank of the rivulet, the attention of the boys 
was attracted to a singular appearance upon the snow. 
A fresh shower had fallen that morning, and the sur- 
face was still soft, and very smooth. Upon this they 
observed double lines of little dots, running in different 
directions, which, upon close inspection, appeared to 
be the tracks of some animal. At first, Basil and 
Francois could hardly believe them to be such, the 
tracks were so very small. They had never seen so 
small ones before — those of a mouse being quite double 
the size. But when they looked more closely at them, 
the boys could distinguish the marks of five little toes 
with claws upon them, which left no doubt upon their 
309 


XTbe loung Do^aaeurs 


minds that some living creature, and that a very dimin- 
utive one, must have passed over the spot. Indeed, 
had the snow not been both fine-grained and soft, the 
feet of such a creature could not have made any im- 
pression upon it. 

The boys stopped and looked around, thinking they 
might see the animal itself. There was a wide circle 
of snow around them, and its surface was smooth and 
level ; but not a speck upon it betrayed the presence 
of any creature. 

“ Perhaps it was a bird,” said Francois, “and has 
taken flight.” 

“ I think not,” rejoined Basil. “ They are not the 
tracks of a bird. It is some animal that has gone 
under the snow, I fancy.” 

“ But I see no hole,” said Francois, “ where even a 
beetle could have gone down. Tet us look for one.” 

At Frangois’ suggestion, they walked on following 
one of the dotted lines. Presently they came to a 
place, where a stalk of long grass stood up through 
the snow — its seedless panicle just appearing above 
the surface. Round this stalk a little hole had been 
formed — partly by the melting of the snow, and partly 
by the action of the wind upon the panicle — and into 
this hole the tracks led. It was evident that the 
animal, whatever it was, must have gone down the 
culm of the grass in making its descent from the sur- 
face of the snow ! They now observed another track 


310 


Ube ^Barren Grounbs 


going from the hole in an opposite direction, which 
showed that the creature had climbed up in the same 
way. Curious to know what it might have been, the 
the boys hailed kucien and Norman, telling them to 
come down. These, followed by Marengo, soon ar- 
rived upon the spot. When Tucien saw the tracks, he 
pronounced them at once to be those of the little 
shrew-mouse {Sorex parvus), the smallest of all the 
quadrupeds of America. Several of them had evi- 
dently been out upon the snow — as there were other 
dotted lines — and the tops of many stalks of grass 
were seen above the surface, each of which had formed 
a little hole around it, by which the mice were enabled 
to get up and down. 

Norman, who had seen these little animals before, 
cautioned his companions to remain quiet awhile, and 
perhaps some of them might come to the surface. 
They all stopped therefore, and stood some time with- 
out moving, or speaking to one another. Presently, a 
little head not much bigger than a pea was seen peep- 
ing up, and than a body followed, which in size did 
not exceed that of a large gooseberry ! To this a tail 
was suspended, just one inch in length, of a square 
shape, and tapering from root to point, like that of any 
other mouse. The little creature was covered with a 
close smooth fur, of a clove-brown colour above, but 
more yellowish upon the belly and sides ; and was 
certainly, as it sat upon the even surface of the snow, 
311 


Ubc l^ouno IDopageurs 


the most diminutive and oddest-looking quadruped that 
any of the party had ever beheld. 

They were just whispering to one another what 
means they should use to capture it, when Marengo, 
whom Basil had been holding quiet, all at Qjice uttered 
a loud bay ; and, springing out of the hands of his 
master, galloped off towards the camp. All of them 
looked after, wondering what had started the dog ; 
but his strange behaviour was at once explained, and 
to their consternation. Around the tent, and close to 
its entrance, several large wolves were seen. They 
were leaping about hurriedly, and worrying some 
objects that lay upon the ground. What these objects 
were was too plain. They were the dags of pemmican I 
Part of their contents was seen strewed over the snow, 
and part was already in the stomachs of the wolves. 

The boys uttered a simultaneous shout, and ran for- 
ward. Marengo was by this time among the wolves, 
and had set fiercely upon one of them. Had his 
masters not been at hand, the fierce brute would soon 
have settled the account with Marengo. But the 
former were now close by, and the wolves, seeing 
them, ran off ; but, to the consternation of the boys, 
each of them carried off a bag of the pemmican in his 
mouth with as much lightness and speed as if nothing 
encumbered them ! 

“ We are lost ! ” cried Norman, in a voice of terror. 
“ Our provisions are gone ! — all gone ! ” 

312 


Ubc ^Barren Grounbs 


It was true. The next moment the wolves dis- 
appeared over the summit of the ridge ; and although 
each of the boys had seized his gun, and ran after, the 
pursuit proved an idle one. Not a wolf was over- 
taken. 

Scarce a scrap of the pemmican had been left — only 
some fragments that had been gnawed by the ravenous 
brutes, and scattered over the snow. That night our 
travellers went to bed supperless ; and, what with hun- 
ger, and the depression of spirits caused by this inci- 
dent, one and all of them kept awake nearly the whole 
of the night. 


313 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


THE ROCK-TRIPE. 


HEY left their skin-couch at an early hour, close 



after daybreak. Hunger and anxiety drove 


them out of their tent. Not a morsel of anything for 
breakfast ! They looked abroad over the country, in 
order, if possible, to descry some living creature. None 
could be seen — nothing but the wilderness waste of 
snow, with here and there the side of a steep hill, or a 
rock showing cold and bleak. Even the wolves that 
had robbed them were no longer to be seen, as if these 
creatures knew that they had got all that was worth 
having, and had now taken themselves off to hunt for 
plunder elsewhere. 

The situation of our travellers was really one of ex- 
treme peril, although it may be difficult for you, young 
reader, to conceive why it should be so. They, how- 
ever, knew it well. They knew that they might travel 
for days through that inhospitable region, without fall- 
ing in with anything that would make a single meal for 
them. But less time than that would suffice to starve 
them all. Already they felt the pangs of hunger — for 


314 


Ube IRocb^Urtpe 


they had not eaten since their breakfast of the preceding 
day, the wolves having interrupted their preparations 
for dinner. 

It was of no use remaining where they were ; so, 
striking their tent once more, they travelled forward. 
It was but poor consolation to them that they travelled 
much lighter than before. They had nothing to carry 
but their guns, and these they had got ready for work 
— so that their journey partook somewhat of the char- 
acter of a hunting excursion. They did not even fol- 
low a direct course, but occasionally turned to one side 
or the other, wherever a clump of willows, or any other 
roughness on the ground, looked like it might be the 
shelter of game. But during that whole day — although 
they travelled from near sunrise to sunset — not a living 
thing was seen ; and for the second night they went 
supperless to bed. 

A man will bear hunger for many days — some more, 
some less — without actually dying of it ; but at no 
period will his sufferings be greater than during the 
third or fourth day. He will grow more feeble after- 
wards, but the pain which he endures will not be 
greater. 

On the third day the sufferings of our party were ex- 
treme. They began to chew pieces of their skin-tent 
and blankets ; but although this took the sharp edge 
off their appetites, it added nothing to their strength ; 
and they still craved for food, and grew feebler. 

315 


ttbe Jffoung IDosageurs 


To use a poetical phrase, Marengo now became the 
“ cynosure of every eye.” Marengo was not very fat. 
The sledge and short rations had thinned him down, 
and his ribs could be easily traced. Although the boys, 
and Basil in particular, would have suffered much be- 
fore sacrificing him, yet starvation will reconcile a man 
to part with his best friend. In spite of their friendship 
for Marengo, his masters could not help scanning him 
from time to time with hungry looks. Marengo was 
an old dog, and, no doubt, as tough as a piece of tan- 
leather ; but their appetites were made up for any- 
thing. 

It was near midday. They had started earl)^ as on 
the day before. They were trudging wearily along, 
and making but little progress. Marengo was strug- 
gling with his sledge, feeble as any of the party. Basil 
saw that the eyes of his companions were from time to 
time bent upon the dog ; and though none of them said 
anything, he understood the thoughts that were pass- 
ing within them. He knew that none of them wished 
to propose it — as Basil was the real master of Marengo 
— but their glances were sufficiently intelligible to him. 
He looked at the downcast countenance of the once 
merry Francois — at the serious air of Norman — at the 
wan cheek and sunken eye of Tucien, whom Basil 
dearly loved. He hesitated no longer. His duty to 
his companions at once overcame his affection for his 
faithful dog. 


316 


XTbe 1Rocbs='Q:ripe 


“We must kill / ” said he, suddenly stopping, 
and pointing to Marengo. 

The rest halted. 

“ I fear there ’s no help for it,” said Norman, turn- 
ing his face in every direction, and sweeping the sur- 
face of the snow with hopeless glances. 

Francois also assented to the proposal. 

“ Fet us make a condition,” suggested Tucien ; “I 
for one could walk five miles farther.” And as Lucien 
said this he made an effort to stand erect, and look 
strong and brave ; but Basil knew it was an effort of 
generosity. 

“No,” said he, — “no, dear Luce. You are done 
up. We must kill the dog ! ” 

“ Nonsense, Basil, you mistake,” replied the other. 
“ I assure you I am far from being done up. I could 
go much further yet. Stay ! ” continued he, pointing 
ahead ; ‘ ‘ you see yonder rocks ? They are about three 
miles off, I should think. They lie directly in our 
course. Well, now, let us agree to this condition. 
Let us give poor Marengo a chance for his life. If 
we find nothing before reaching those rocks, why 
then ” 

And Lucien, seeing Marengo gazing up in his face, 
left the sentence unfinished. The poor brute looked 
up at all of them as though he understood every word 
that they were saying ; and his mute appeal, had it 
been necessary, would not have been thrown away. 
317 


Ubc ISoung IDo^aaeurs 


But it did not require that to get him the proposed 
respite. All agreed willingly with Lucien’s propOvSi- 
tion ; and, shouldering their pieces, the party moved on. 

lyucien had purposely understated the distance to the 
rocks. It was five, instead of three miles ; and some 
of them made it full ten, as they were determined 
Marengo should have the benefit of every chance. 

They deployed like skirmishers ; and not a brake or 
brush that lay to the right or left of the path but was 
visited and beaten by one or other of them. Their 
diligence was to no purpose. After two hours’ weary 
work, they arrived among the rocks, having seen not 
a trace of either quadruped or bird. 

“ Come ! ” cried Lucien in his now feeble voice, still 
trying to look cheerful, “ we must pass through them. 
There is a chance yet. Tet him have fair play. The 
rocks were to be the limit, but it was not stated what 
part of them. Tet us pass through to the other side 
— they do not extend far.” 

Encouraged by the words of Eucien, the party 
entered among the rocks, moving on separate paths. 
They had gone only a few paces, when a shout from 
Norman caused the rest to look to him for an explana- 
tion. No animal was in sight. Had he .seen any? 
No ; but something that gratified him certainly, for 
his voice and manner expressed it. 

” What is it? ” inquired the others, all speaking at 
the same time. 


318 


Ube lRochs=^ripe 


‘ ‘ Tripe de roche / ’ ’ answered he. 

‘ ‘ Tripe de roche f ’ ’ 

“Yes,” replied Norman, “look there!” and he 
pointed to one of the rocks directl}^* ahead of them, at 
the same time moving forward to it. The others hast- 
ened up after. On reaching the rock, they saw what 
Norman had meant by the words tripe de roche (rock- 
tripe). It was a black, hard, crumply substance, that 
nearly covered the surface of the rock, and was evi- 
dently of a vegetable nature. Tucien knew what it 
was as well as Norman, and joy had expressed itself 
upon his pale cheeks at the sight. As for Basil and 
Francois they only stood waiting an explanation, and 
wondering what value a quantity of “ rock moss,” as 
they deemed it, could be to persons in their condi- 
tion. Lncien soon informed them that it was not a 
“ moss,” but a “ lichen,” and of that celebrated species 
which will sustain human life. It was the Gyrophora. 
Norman confirmed Lucien’s statement, and furthermore 
affirmed, that not only the Indians and Esquimaux, 
but also parties of voyageurs, had often subsisted 
upon it for days, when they would otherwise have 
starved. There are many species — not less than five 
or six. All of them possess nutritive properties, but 
only one is a palatable food — the Gyrophora vellea 
of botanists. Unfortunately, this was not the sort 
which our voyageurs had happened upon, as it grows 
only upon rocks shaded by woods, and is rarely met 
- 319 


Ube l^ouuG Doi^aGcur^ 


with in the open barrens. The one, however, which 
Norman had discovered was the “ next best,” and they 
were all glad at finding even that. 

The first thing to be thought of was to collect it, and 
all four set to peeling and scraping it from the rocks. 
The next thought was to make it ready for eating. 
Here a new difiBculty stared them in the face. The 
tripe de roche had to be boiled, — it could not be eaten 
else, — and where w^as the fire ? where was the wood to 
make one? Not a stick was to be seen. They had 
not met with a tree during all that day’s journey ! 

They were now as badly off as ever. The tripe de 
roche would be of no more use to them than so much 
dry grass. What could they do with it ? 

In the midst of their suspense, one of them thought 
of the sledge — Marengo’s sledge. That would make a 
fire, but a very small one. It might do to cook a sin- 
gle meal. Even that was better than none. Marengo 
was not going to object to the arrangement. He looked 
quite willing to part with the sledge. But a few hours 
before, it came near being used to cook Marengo him- 
self. He was not aware of that, perhaps, but no mat- 
ter. All agreed that the sledge must be broken up, 
and converted into firewood. 

They were about to take it to pieces, and had already 
“ unhitched ” Marengo from it, when Basil, who had 
walked to the other side of the rocky jumble, cried back 
to them to desist. He had espied some willows at no 


320 


trbe IRocb^strripe 


great distance. Out of these a fire could be made. 
The sledge, therefore, was let alone for the present. 
Basil and Francois immediately started for the willows, 
while Norman and lyucien remained upon the spot to 
prepare the “ tripe ” for the pot. 

In a short time the former parties returned with two 
large bundles of willows, and the fire was kindled. 
The tripe de roche^ with some snow — for there was no 
water near — was put into the pot, and the latter hung 
over the blaze. 

After boiling for nearly an hour, the lichen became 
reduced to a soft gummy pulp, and Norman thickened 
the mess to his taste by putting in more snow, or more 
of the ‘ ‘ tripe, ” as it seemed to require it. The pot was 
then taken from the fire, and all four greedily ate of its 
contents. It was far from being palatable, and had a 
clammy “feel” in the mouth, something like sago; 
but none of the party was in any way either dainty or 
fastidious just at that time, and they soon consumed all 
that had been cooked. It did not satisfy the appetite, 
though it filled the stomach, and made their situation 
less painful to bear. 

Norman informed them that it was much better when 
cooked with a little meat, so as to make broth. This 
Norman’s companions could easily credit, but where 
was the meat to come from ? The Indians prefer the 
tripe de roche when prepared along with the roe of 
fish, or when boiled in fish liquor. 


trbe l^ouuG IDopa^euts 


Our weary voyageurs resolved to remain among the 
rocks for that night at least ; and with this intent they 
put up their little tent. They did not kindle any fire, 
as the willows were scarce, and there would be barely 
enough to make one or two more boilings of the rock- 
tripe. They spread their skins within the tent, and 
creeping in, kept one another as warm as they could 
until morning. 


322 


CHAPTER XXXII. 


THE POIvAR HARE AND GREAT SNOWY OWE. 



F course hunger kept them from sleeping late. 


They were up and out of the tent by an early 
hour. Their fire was re-kindled, and they were making 
preparations for a fresh pot of rock-tripe, when they 
were startled by the note of a well-known bird. On 
looking up, they beheld seated upon the point of a rock 
the creature itself, which was the ‘ ‘ cinereous crow ’ ’ 
{Garrulus Canadensis), or, as it is better known, the 
“whiskey Jack.” The latter name it receives from 
the voyageurs, on account of the resemblance of its In- 
dian appellation, “ whiskae-shaw-neesh,” to the words 
“ whiskey -John.” Although sometimes called the 
‘ ‘ cinereous crow, ’ ’ the bird is a true j ay. It is one of the 
most inelegant of the genus, being of a dull grey col- 
our, and not particularly graceful in its form. Its 
plumage, moreover, does not consist of webbed feathers, 
but rather more resembles hair ; nor does its voice 
make up for the plainness of its appearance, as is the 
case with some birds. On the contrary, the voice of 
“whiskey Jack” is plaintive and squeaking, though 


Ube 13 oung Do^ageurs 


he is something of a mocker in his way, and frequently 
imitates the notes of other birds. He is one of those 
creatures that frequent the habitations of man, and 
there is not a fur post, or fort, in all the Hudson’s Bay 
territory, where “whiskey Jack” is not familiarly 
known. He is far from being a favourite, however, 
as, like his near relative the magpie, he is a great thief, 
and will follow the marten- trapper all day while baiting 
his traps, perching upon a tree until the bait is set, 
and then pouncing down, and carrying it off. He 
frequently pilfers small articles from the forts and 
encampments, and is so bold as to enter the tents, and 
seize food out of any vessel that may contain it. Not- 
withstanding all this, he is a favourite with the travel- 
ler through these inhospitable regions. No matter 
how barren the spot where the voyageur may make 
his camp, his tent will hardly be pitched, before he 
receives a visit from “ whiskey Jack,” who comes, of 
course, to pick up any crumbs that may fall. His 
company, therefore, in a region where all other wild 
creatures shun the society of man, endears him to the 
lonel}^ traveller. 

At many of their camps our voyageurs had met with 
this singular bird, and were always glad to receive 
him as a friend. They were now doubly delighted to 
see him, but this delight arose from no friendly feelings. 
Their guest was at once doomed to die. Francois had 
taken up his gun, and in the next moment would have 
324 


©olar Ibare anb Great Suow^ ©wl 


brought him down, had he not been checked by 
Norman. Not that Norman intended to plead for his 
life, but Norman’s eye had caught sight of another 
“whiskey Jack,” — which was hopping among the 
rocks at some distance — and fearing that Francois’ shot 
might frighten it away, had hindered him from firing. 
It was Norman’s design to get both. 

The second “whiskey Jack,” or, perhaps, it was 
the whiskey “Jill,” soon drew near; and both were 
now seen to hop from rock to rock, and then upon the 
top of the tent, and one of them actually settled upon 
the edge of the pot, as it hung over the fire, and quietly 
looking into it, appeared to scrutinise its contents ! 

The boys could not think of any way of getting the 
birds, except by Francois’ gun ; and it was at length 
agreed that Francois should do his best. He was sure 
of one of them, at least ; so telling the others to get 
behind him, he fired at the more distant one where it 
sat upon the tent, and took the other on the wing. 

Both shots were successful. The two jays fell, and 
were soon divested of their soft, silky, hair-like plu- 
mage, and dropped into the boiling pot. They did not 
weigh together more than about six or seven ounces ; 
but even that was accounted something under present 
circumstances ; and, with the tr/pe de roche^ a much 
better breakfast was made than they had anticipated. 

No more of the lichen could be found. The rocks 
were all searched, but only a few patches — not enough 


325 


ZTbe Iffoung Doi^ageuta 


for another full meal — could be obtained. The travel- 
lers had no other resource, therefore, but to continue 
on, and passing through the rocky ground, they once 
more embarked upon the wilderness of snow. 

During that whole day not a living creature glad- 
dened their eyes. They saw nothing that was eatable 
— fish, flesh, fowl, or vegetable. Not even a bit of 
rock-tripe — in these parts the last resource of starving 
men — could be met with. They encamped in a plain, 
where not a tree stood — not even a rock to shelter 
them. 

Next morning a consultation was held. Marengo 
was again the subject of their thoughts and conver- 
sation. Should they kill him on the spot or go a little 
farther? That was the question. Tucien, as before, 
interposed in his favour. There was a high hill many 
miles off, and in their proper course. “ Tet us first 
reach yonder hill,” proposed Tucien. ” If nothing is 
found before that, then we must part with Marengo.” 

The proposal was agreed to, and, striking their tent, 
they again set out. 

It was a toilsome long way to that hill— feeble and 
weary as they all were — but they reached it without 
having observed the slightest trace of animal life. 

“Up the hill!” cried Uucien, beckoning to the 
others, and cheering them with his weak voice, “Up 
the hill ! ” 

On they went, up the steep declivity — Marengo 


polar Ibare anb Great Snowi^ ®wl 


toiling on after them. The dog looked downcast and 
despairing. He really appeared to know the condi- 
tions that had been made for his life. His masters, as 
they crept upward, looked sharply before them. 
Every tuft that appeared above the snow was scruti- 
nised, and every inch of the ground, as it came into 
view was examined. 

At length they crossed the escarpment of the hill, 
and stood upon the summit. They gazed forward 
with disappointed feelings. The hill-top was a sort of 
table plain, of about three hundred yards in diameter. 
It was covered with snow, nearly a foot in depth. A 
few heads of withered grass were seen above the 
surface, but not enough to subdue the uniform white 
that prevailed all over. There was no creature upon 
it ; that was evident. A bird as big as a sparrow, or a 
quadruped as large as a shrew-mouse, could have been 
seen upon any part of it. A single glance satisfied all 
of them that no living thing was there. 

They halted without proceeding farther. Some of 
them could not have gone another mile, and all of 
them were tottering in their tracks. Marengo had 
arrived upon the summit, and stood a little to one side, 
with the sledge behind him. 

“ You must do it ! ” said Basil, speaking to Norman 
in a hoarse voice, and turning his head away. Eucien 
and Francois stepped aside at the same time, and stood 
as if looking downi the hill. The countenances of all 
327 


TLbc 1^011110 lDoi?a^eut0 


three betokened extreme sorrow. There was a tear in 
Basil’s eye that he was trying to wipe away with his 
sleeve. 

The sharp click of Norman’s gun was heard behind 
them, and they were all waiting for the report, when, 
at that moment, a dark shadow passing over the white 
declivity arrested their attention ! It was the shadow of 
a bird upon the wing. The simultaneous exclamation 
of all three stayed Norman’s finger — already pressing 
upon the trigger — and the latter, turning round, saw 
that they were regarding some object in the air. It 
was a bird of great size — almost as large as an eagle, 
but with the plumage of a swan. It was white all over 
— both body and wings — white as the snow over which 
it was sailing. Norman knew the bird at a glance. 
Its thick short neck and large head — its broad-spread- 
ing wings, of milky whiteness, were not to be mistaken. 
It was the “ great snowy owl ” of the Arctic regions. 

Its appearance suddenly changed the aspect of 
affairs. Norman let the butt of his rifle fall to the 
ground, and stood, like the rest, watching the bird in 
its flight. 

The snowy owl (Strix nycteci) is, perhaps, the most 
beautiful, as it is one of the most powerful birds of its 
genus— of which there are more than a dozen in North 
America. It is a bird of the Polar regions — even the 
most remote — and in the dead of winter it is found 
within the Arctic circle, on both Continents — although 
328 


polar 1bare anO Great Snowig Gwl 


at the same season it also wanders farther south. It 
dwells upon the Barren Grounds as well as in wooded 
districts. In the former it squats upon the snow, where 
its peculiar colour often prevents it from being noticed 
by the passing hunter. Nature has furnished it with 
every protection from the cold. Its plumage is thick, 
closely matted, and downy, and it is feathered to 
the very eyes — so that its legs appear as large as 
those of a good-sized dog. The bill, too, is completely 
hidden under a mass of feathers that cover its face, and 
not even a point of its whole body is exposed. 

The owl is usually looked upon as a night-bird, and 
in Southern latitudes it is rarely seen by day ; but the 
owls of the Northern regions differ from their congeners 
in this respect. They hunt by day, even during the 
bright hours of noon. Were it not so, hOw could they 
exist in the midst of an Arctic summer, when the days 
are months in duration ? Here we have another exam- 
ple of the manner in which Nature trains her wild creat- 
ures to adapt themselves to their situation. 

At least a dozen species of owls frequent the territory 
of the Hudson’s Bay Company — the largest of which is 
the cinereous owl, whose wings have a spread of nearly 
five feet. Some species migrate south on the approach 
of winter ; while several, as the snowy owl, remain to 
prey upon the ptarmigan, the hares, and other small 
quadrupeds, who, like themselves, choose that dreary 
region for their winter home. 

329 


Ubc JSouuQ IDo^gageurs 


Our travellers, as I have said, stood watching the owl 
as it soared silently through the heavens. Frangois 
had thrown his gun across his left arm, in hopes he 
might get a shot at it ; but the bird — a shy one at all 
times — kept away out of range ; and, after circling once 
or twice over the hill, uttered a loud cry and flew off. 

Its cry resembled the moan of a human being in dis- 
tress ; and its effect upon the minds of our travellers, 
in the state they then were, was far from being pleasant. 
They watched the bird with despairing looks, until it 
was lost against the white background of a snow-cov- 
ered hill. 

They had noticed that the owl appeared to be just 
taking flight when they first saw it. It must have risen 
up from the hill upon which they were ; and they once 
more ran their eyes along the level summit, curious to 
know where it had been perched that they had not 
seen it. No doubt, reflected they, it had been near 
enough, but its colour had rendered it undistinguish- 
able from the snow. 

“ What a pity ! ” exclaimed Francois. 

While making these reflections, and sweeping their 
glances around, an object caught their eyes that caused 
some of them to ejaculate and suddenly raise their guns. 
This object was near the centre of the summit table, 
and at first sight appeared to be only a lump of snow ; 
but upon closer inspection, two little round spots of a 
dark colour, and above these two elongated black 
330 


polar Ibare anb Great Snow^ Gwl 


marks, could be seen. Looking steadily, the eye at 
length traced the outlines of an animal, that sat in a 
crouching attitude. The round spots were its eyes, 
and the black marks above them were tips of a pair of 
very long ears. All the rest of the body was covered 
with a soft white fur, hardly distinguished from the 
snow upon which it rested. 

The form and colour of the animal, but more espe- 
cially its long erect ears, made it easy for them to tell 
what it was. All of them saw it w^as a hare. 

“ Hush ! ” continued Norman, as soon as he saw it, 
“keep still all of you — leave it to me.” 

“What shall we do ? ” demanded Basil. “ Can we 
not assist you ? ’ ’ 

“No,” was the repL^ uttered in a whisper, “stay 
where you are. Keep the dog quiet. I ’ll manage 
puss, if the owl hasn’t scared her too badly. That 
scream has started her out of her form. I’m certain 
she wasn’t that way before. Maybe she ’ll sit it out. 
Lucky the sun’s high — don’t move a step. Have the 
dog ready, but hold him tight, and keep a sharp look 
out if she bolts.” 

After giving these instructions, that were all uttered 
quickly and in an under tone, Norman moved oif, with 
his gun carried across his arm. He did not move in 
the direction of the hare, but rather as if he was going 
from her. His course, however, bent gradually into a 
circle of which the hare was the centre — the diameter 
331 


tTbe ISoun^ IDo^a^euta 


being the full breadth of the summit level, which was 
about three hundred yards. In this circle he walked 
round and round, keeping his eye fixed upon the crouch- 
ing animal. When he had nearly completed one cir- 
cumference, he began to shorten the diameter — so that 
the curve which he was now following was a spiral one, 
and gradually drawing nearer to the hare. The latter 
kept watching him as he moved — curiosity evidently 
mingling with her fears. Fortunately, as Norman had 
said, the sun was nearly in the vertex of the heavens, 
and his own body cast very little shadow upon the 
snow. Had it been otherwise, the hare would have 
been frightened at the moving shadow, and would have 
sprung out of her form, before he could have got within 
range. 

When he had made some four or five circuits, Nor- 
man moved slower and slower, and then stopped nearly 
opposite to where the others were. These stood watch- 
ing him with beating hearts, for they knew that the life 
of Marengo, and perhaps their own as well, depended 
on the shot. Norman had chosen his place, so that in 
case the hare bolted, she might run towards them, and 
give them the chance of a flying shot. His gun was 
already at his shoulder — his finger rested on the trigger, 
and the boys were expecting the report, when again 
the shadow of a bird flitted over the snow, a loud hu- 
man-like scream sounded in their ears, and the hare 
was seen to spring up, and stretch her long legs in 
332 


polar 1bare an^ Great Gwl 


flight. At the same instant the great snowy owl was 
observed wheeling above, and threatening to pounce 
upon the fleeing animal ! 

The hare ran in a side direction, but it brought her 
as she passed within range of the party by the sledge. 
The owl kept above her as she ran. A dozen leaps 
was all the hare ever made. A loud crack was heard 
and she was seen to spring up and fall back upon the 
snow, dead as a door-nail. Tike an echo another crack 
followed — a wild scream rang through the air, and the 
great white owl fell fluttering to the earth. The re- 
ports were not of a rifle. They were the louder de- 
tonations of a shot-gun. All eyes were turned towards 
Frangois, who, like a little god, stood enveloped in a 
halo of blue smoke. Francois was the hero of the 
hour. 

Marengo rushed forward and seized the struggling 
owl, that snapped its bill at him like a watchman’s 
rattle. But Marengo did not care for that ; and seizing 
its head in his teeth, gave it a crunch that at once put 
an end to its flapping. 

Marengo was reprieved, and he seemed to know it, 
as he bounded over the snow, waving his tail, and 
barking like a young fool. 

They all ran up to the hare, which proved to be the 
“ Polar hare ” {Lepus glacialis) , and one of the largest 
of its species — not less than fifteen pounds in weight. 
Its fur, soft and white like swan-down, was stained 
333 


Ube ^omQ Dopaoeurs 


with red blood. It was not quite dead. Its little heart 
yet beat faintly, and the light of life was still shining 
from its beautiful honey-coloured eyes. Both it and 
the owl were taken up and carried to the sledge, which 
was once more attached to Marengo, as the party in- 
tended to go forward and halt under the shelter of the 
hill. 

“There must be some wood in this quarter,” re- 
marked Norman : “I never knew this sort of hare far 
from timber.” 

“True,” said Tucien, “the Polar hare feeds upon 
willows, arbutus, and the Labrador tea-plant. Some 
of these kinds must be near.” 

While they were speaking, they had reached the 
brow of the hill, on the opposite side from where they 
had ascended. On looking into the valley below, to 
their great joy they beheld some clumps of willows 
and good-sized trees of poplar, birch, and spruce-pine 
(Pznus alba)y and passing down the hill, the travellers 
soon stood in their midst. Presently was heard the 
chipping sound of an axe and crash of falling timber, 
and in a few moments after a column of smoke was 
seen soaring up out of the valley, and curling cheer- 
fully towards the bright blue sky. 


334 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 


THK JUMPING MOUSE) AND THE) E)RMINB. 

L arge as the hare was, she would have made but 
a meal for our four hungry voyageurs, had they 
eaten at will. By Eucien’s advice, however, they re- 
strained themselves, and half of her was left for supper, 
when the ‘ ‘ cook ’ ’ promised to make them hare-soup. 
The head, feet, and other spare bits, fell to Marengo’s 
share. The owl, whose flesh was almost as white as 
its plumage, and, as Norman well knew, most delicate 
eating, was reserved for to-morrow’s breakfast. 

Thej^ had pitched their tent with the intention of re- 
maining at that place all night, and continuing their 
journey next day ; but, as it still wanted several hours 
of sunset, and the strength of all was considerably re- 
cruited, they resolved to hunt about the neighbourhood 
as long as they had light. It was of great importance 
that they should procure more game. The owl would 
make but a spare breakfast, and after that where was 
the next meal to come from ? They had had a tempo- 
rary relief, and while their strength lasted, they must 
use every effort to procure a further supply. The 
valley in which their new camp was placed looked 
335 


Ubc l^ouuG IDo^aGCura 


well for game. It was a sort of oasis in the Barren 
Grounds. There was a lake and a considerable skirt- 
ing of timber around it — consisting, as we have said, 
of willows, poplars, spruce-pine, and dwarf birch-trees 
{Betulanana). The Alpine arbutus, whose berries are 
the food of many species of animals, also grew upon 
the side of the hills ; and the Labrador tea-plant 
{Ledum palustre) was found upon the low ground 
around the lake. The leaves of this last is a favourite 
food of the Polar hare, and our voj^ageurs had no 
doubt but that there were many of these animals in 
the neighbourhood. Indeed, they had better evidence 
than conjecture, for they saw numerous hare-tracks in 
the snow. There were tracks of other animals too, for 
it is a well-known fact that where one kind exists, at 
least two or three others will be found in the same 
habitat — all being connected together by a “ chain of 
destruction ’ 

A singular illustration of this was afforded to Lu- 
cien, who remained at the camp while the rest went 
out hunting. He had gathered some of the leaves of 
the Labrador tea, and was drying them over the coals, 
intending to cheer his comrades with a cup of this 
beverage after supper. The hare-soup was boiling, 
and the “ cook ” sat listening to the cheerful sounds 
that issued from the pot — now and then taking off the 
lid to examine its savoury contents, and give them a 
stir. He would then direct his attention to the tea- 

336 


Jumping /ll>ouse anb tbe lErmine 


leaves that were parching in the frying-pan ; and, 
having shifted them a little, felt himself at liberty to 
look about for a minute or two. 

On one of these occasions, while glancing up, his 
attention was attracted to an object which appeared 
upon the snow at a short distance from where he sat. 
A wreath of .snow, that had formed under the shelter 
of the hill, extended all around its base, presenting a 
steep front in every direction. This front was only 
two or three feet in height ; but the top surface 
of the wreath was many yards wide — in fact, it ex- 
tended back until it became blended with the slope of 
the hill. It was smooth and nearly level, but the hill 
above was steep, and somewhat rough and rocky. 
The steep front of the wreath came down within half 
a dozen paces of the fire where Tucien was seated ; and 
it was upon the top or scarpment of it that the object 
appeared that had drawn his attention. It was a 
small creature, but it was in motion, and thus had 
caught his eye. 

A single glance showed him that the little animal 
was a mouse, but of a somewhat singular species. It 
was about the size of the common mouse, but quite dif- 
ferent in colour. The upper half of its body was of a 
light mahogany tint, while the lower half, including 
the legs and feet, were of a milky whiteness. It was, 
in fact, the “white-footed mouse” {Mus leucopus)^ one 
of the most beautiful of its kind. 


337 


Ube l^oung tDoi^aoeurs 


Here and there above the surface of the snow pro- 
truded the tops of arbutus-trees ; and the little creature 
was passing from one of these to the other, in search, 
no doubt, of the berries that remain upon these trees 
all the winter. Sometimes it ran from point to point 
like any other mouse, but now and then it would rear 
itself on its hind-legs, and leap several feet at a single 
bound ! In this it evidently assisted itself by pressing 
its tail — in which it possesses muscular power — against 
the snow. This peculiar mode of progression has 
obtained for it the- name of the “jumping mouse,” 
and among the Indian's “ deer ’’-mouse, because its 
leap reminds them of the bounding spring of the deer. 
But there are still other species of “jumping mice” 
in America that possess this power to a greater degree 
even than the Mus leucopus. 

Lucien watched its motions without attempting to in- 
terfere with it, until it had got nearly out of sight. He 
did not desire to do injury to the little creature, nor 
was he curious to obtain it, as he had already met with 
many specimens, and examined them to his satisfaction. 
He had ceased to think of it, and would, perhaps, 
never have thought of it again, but, upon turning his 
eyes in the opposite direction, he observed another ani- 
mal upon the snow. This creature had a far different 
aspect from the mouse. Its body was nearly a foot in 
length, although not much thicker than that of the 
other ! Its legs were short, but strong, and its fore- 
338 


Sumpina /IC)ouse anb tbe Ermine 


head broad and arched convexly. It had a tail more 
than half the length of the body, hairy, and tapering 
like that of a cat. Its form was the well-known form 
of the weasel, and it was, in fact, a species of weasel. 
It was the celebrated ermine (Mustela erminea), cele- 
brated for its' soft and beautiful fur, so long prized as 
an ornament for the robes of the rich. It was white 
all over, with the exception of its tail ; and that, for 
about an inch or so at the tip, was covered with black 
silky hair. On some parts of the body, too, the white 
was tinged with a primrose yellow ; but this tinge is 
not found in all animals of this species, as some in- 
dividuals are pure white. Of course it was now in its 
winter “ robes ” ; but in the summer it changes to a 
colour that does not differ much from that of the com- 
mon weasel. 

When L,ucien first saw it, it was running along the 
top of the wreath, and coming from the same direction 
from which the mouse had come. Now and then it 
paused awhile, and then ran on again. Lucien observed 
that it kept its nose to the ground, and as it drew 
nearer he saw that it was following on the same path 
which the other had taken. To his astonishment he 
perceived that it was trailmg the mouse ! Wherever 
the latter had doubled or made a ditour, the ermine 
followed the track ; and where the mouse had given 
one of its long leaps, there the ermine would stop, and, 
after beating about until it struck the trail again, would 
339 


XTbe ^omQ IDo^ageuts 


resume its onward course at a gallop. Its manoeuvres 
were exactly like those of a hound upon the fresh trail 
of a fox ! 

I^ucien now looked abroad to discover the mouse. 
It was still in sight far off upon the snow, and, as 
Lucien could see, busily gnawing at the arbutus, quite 
unconscious that its greatest enemy was so near. I say 
greatest enemy, for the Mas leucopus is the natural prey 
of the Mustela erminea. 

The mouse was soon made aware of the dangerous 
proximity, but not until the ermine had got within a 
few feet of it. When it perceived the latter it shrunk, 
at first, among the leaves of the arbutus ; but seeing 
there would be no protection there — as the other was 
still springing forward to seize it — it leaped up, and en- 
deavoured to escape by flight. Its flight appeared to 
be in alternate jumps and runs, but the chase was not 
a long one. The ermine was as active as a cat, and, 
after a few skips, its claws were struck into the mouse. 
There was a short, .slender squeak, and then a ‘ ‘ crunch, ’ ’ 
like the cracking of a hazel-nut. This last sound was 
produced by the teeth of the ermine breaking through 
the skull of its victim. 


340 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 


THE ARCTIC FOX AND WHITE WOEF. 

UCIEN turned round to get hold of his rifle, in- 



J y tending to punish the ermine, although the little 

creature, in doing what it did, had only obeyed a law 
of nature. But the boy had also another design in 
killing it : he wished to compare it with some ermines 
he had seen while travelling upon Lake Winnipeg, 
which, as he thought, were much larger — one that he 
had caught having measured more than a foot in length, 
without including the tail. He wished, also, to make 
some comparison between it and the common weasel ; 
for in its winter dress, in the snowy regions, the latter 
very much resembles the ermine ; and, indeed, the 
trappers make no distinction between them. 

With these ideas Lucien had grasped his gun, and 
was raising himself to creep a little nearer, when his 
eye was arrested by the motions of another creature 
coming along the top of the wreath. This last was a 
snow-white animal, with long, shaggy fur, sharp- 
pointed snout, erect ears, and bushy tail. Its aspect 
was fox-like, and its movements and attitudes had all 
that semblance of cunning and caution so characteristic 


341 


trbe ^omQ IDo^aaeura 


of those animals. Well might it, for it was a fox — the 
beautiful white fox of the Arctic regions. 

It is commonly supposed that there are but two or 
three kinds of foxes in America ; and that these are 
only varieties of the European species. 

This is an erroneous idea, as there are nearly a dozen 
varieties existing in North America, although they 
may be referred to a less number of species. There is 
the Arctic fox, which is confined to the cold Northern 
regions, and which in winter is white. 

The “ sooty fox ” is a variety of the “Arctic,” dis- 
tinguished from it only by its colour, which is of a 
uniform blackish brown. 

The “American fox” {Vulpes fulvus'), or, as it is 
commonly called, the “red fox,” has been long sup- 
posed to be the same as the European red fox. This 
is erroneous. They differ in many points ; and, what 
is somewhat curious, these points of difference are 
similar to those that exist between the European and 
American wolves, as already given. 

‘ ‘ The cross fox ’ ’ is supposed by the Indians and 
some naturalists to be only a variety of the last. It 
derives its name from its having two dark stripes cross- 
ing each other upon the shoulders. Its fur from this 
circumstance, and perhaps because the animal is scarce, 
is more prized than that of the red variety. When a 
single skin of the latter is worth only fifteen shillings, 
one of the cross fox will bring as much as five guineas. 

342 


Hrctic jfoj ant) mbitc Molf 


Another variety of the red fox, and a much more 
rare one, is the “ black,” or ” silver ” fox. The skins 
of these command six times the price of any other furs 
found in America, with the exception of the sea-otter. 
The animal itself is so rare that only a few fall into the 
hands of the Hudson’s Bay Company in a season ; and 
Mr. Nicholay, the celebrated London furrier, asserts 
that a single skin will fetch from ten to forty guineas, 
according to quality. A remarkable cloak, or pelisse, 
belonging to the Emperor of Russia, and made out of 
the skins of silver-foxes, was exhibited in the Great 
London Exposition of 1851. It was made entirely 
from the neck-part of the skins — the only part of the 
silver-fox which is pure black. This cloak was valued 
at 3400/. ; though Mr. Nicholay considers this an exag- 
gerated estimate, and states its true value to be not 
over 1000/. George the Fourth had a lining of black 
fox-skins worth 1000/. 

The ‘ ‘ grey fox ” is a more southern species than 
any already described. Its proper home is the temper- 
ate zone covered by the United States ; although it 
extends its range into the southern parts of Canada. 
In the United States it is the most common kind, 
although in that district there is also a “red fox,” 
different from the Vulpes fulvus already noticed ; and 
which, no doubt, is the red fox of Europe, introduced 
by the early colonists of America. 

Still another species, the smallest and perhaps the 
343 


Zbc l^ouno IDo^a^eurs 


most interesting of any, is the “kit fox.” This little 
creature is an inhabitant of the prairies, where it makes 
its burrows far from any wood. It is extremely shy, 
and the swiftest animal in the prairie country — outrun- 
ning even the antelope ! 

When lyucien saw the fox he thought no more of the 
ermine, but drew back and crouched down, in hopes 
he might get a shot at the larger animal. He knew 
well that the flesh of the Arctic fox is highly esteemed 
as food, particularly by persons situated as he and his 
companions were, and he hoped to be able to add it to 
their larder. 

When first seen it was coming towards him, though 
not in a direct line. It was engaged in hunting, and, 
with its nose to the snow, was running in zig-zag lines, 
“quartering” the ground like a pointer dog. Pres- 
ently it struck the trail of the ermine, and with a yelp 
of satisfaction followed it. This of course brought it 
clOvSe past where Tucien was ; but, notwithstanding his 
eagerness to fire, it moved so rapidly along the trail 
that he was unable to take sight upon it. It did not 
halt fora moment; and, as Tucien’s gun was a rifle, 
he knew that a flying shot would be an uncertain one. 
In the belief, therefore, that the fox would stop soon — 
at all events when it came up with the ermine — he 
restrained himself from firing, and waited. 

It ran on, still keeping the track of the ermine. The 
latter, hitherto busy with his own prey, did not see the 
344 


Brctic ffoj anb Mbite Molt 


fox until it was itself seen, when, dropping the half- 
eaten mouse, it reared up on its hind-quarters like a 
squirrel or a monkey, at the same time spitting as 
spitefully as any other weasel could have done. In a 
moment, however, it changed its tactics — for the open 
jaws of the fox were within a few paces of it — and 
after making a short quick run along the surface, it 
threw up its hind-quarters, and plunged head-foremost 
into the snow ! The fox sprang forward, and flinging 
his brush high in air, shot after like an arrow ! 

Both had now disappeared from lyucien’s sight. For 
a moment the surface of the snow was disturbed above 
the spot where they had gone down, but the next mo- 
ment all was still, and no evidence existed that a living 
creature had been there, except the tracks, and the 
break the two creatures had made in going down. 
Tucien ran* forward until he was within a few yards of 
the place, and stood watching the hole, with his rifle 
ready — thinking that the fox, at least, would soon come 
up again. 

He had waited for nearly five minutes, looking stead- 
ily at this point, when his eye was attracted by a move- 
ment under the snow, at a considerable distance, quite 
fifty paces, from where he stood. The frozen crust 
was seen to upheave ; and the next moment, the head 
of the fox, and afterwards his whole body, appeared 
above the surface. Tucien saw that the ermine lay 
transversely between his jaws, and was quite dead ! 

345 


TLbc ISoun^ IDo^ageurs 


He was about to fire, but the fox, suddenly perceiving 
him, shot off like an arrow, carrying his prey along 
with him. He was soon out of reach, and I^ucien, 
seeing that he had lost his chance, was about to return 
to the fire, when, all at once, the fox was observed to 
stop, turn suddenly in his tracks, and run off in a new 
direction ! I^ucien looked beyond to ascertain the cause 
of this strange manoeuvre. That was soon ascertained. 
Coming down from among the rocks was a large ani- 
mal — five times the fox’s size — but in other respects 
not unlike him. It was also of a snow-white colour, 
with long hair, bushy tail, and short erect ears, but its 
aspect was not to be mistaken. It was the great white 
wolf. 

When Lucien first saw this new-comer, the latter had 
just espied the fox, and was about stretching out into 
a gallop towards him. The fox, watching backwards 
as he ran, had not seen the wolf, until the latter was 
within a few springs of him ; and now when he had 
turned, and both were in full chase, there was not over 
twenty yards between them. The direction in which 
they ran would bring them near to Tucien ; and so they 
came, and passed him — neither of them seeming to 
heed his presence. They had not got many yards far- 
ther, before Tucien perceived that the wolf was fast 
closing on the fox, and would soon capture him. Be- 
lieving he would then .stop, so as to offer him a fairer 
chance for a shot, Tucien followed. The wolf, how- 
346 


Hrctic 3Foj anb Mbtte Molf 


ever, had noticed him coming after, and although the 
next moment he closed his great jaws upon the fox, he 
did not pause for a single instant, but, lifting the latter 
clear up from the ground, ran on without the slightest 
apparent diminution of speed ! 

Reynard was seen to struggle and kick, while he 
squeaked like a shot puppy ; but his cries each moment 
grew feebler, and his struggles soon came to an end. 
The wolf held him transversely in his jaws — just as he 
himself but the moment before had carried the ermine. 

lyucien saw there was no use in following them, as 
the wolf ran on with his prey. With some disappoint- 
ment, therefore, he was about to return to the fire, 
where, to add to his mortification, he knew he would 
find his tea-leaves parched to a cinder. He lingered a 
moment, however, with his eyes still fixed upon the 
departing wolf that was just about to disappear over the 
crest of a ridge. The fox was still in his jaws, but no 
longer struggling. Reynard looked limber and dead, 
as his legs swung loosely on both sides of the wolfs 
head. Lucien at that moment saw the latter suddenly 
stop in his career, and then drop down upon the surface 
of the snow as if dead ! He fell with his victim in his 
jaws, and lay half doubled up, and quite still. 

This strange action would have been a difficult 
thing for *IyUcien to explain, but, almost at the same 
instant in which he observed it, a puff of blue smoke 
shot up over the ridge, and quickly following was heard 
347 


Zbc l^oung IDo^aaeurs 


the sharp crack of a rifle. Then a head with its cap of 
raccoon skin appeared above the snow, and Lucien, 
recognising the face of Basil, ran forward to meet him. 

Both soon stood over the body of the dead wolf, won- 
dering at what they saw ; but Basil, far more than 
lyucien — for the latter already knew the circumstances 
of that strange scene of death. First there was the 
great gaunt body of the wolf stretched along the snow, 
and quite dead. Crossways in his mouth was the fox, 
just as he had been carried off ; and across the jaws of 
the latter, lay the long worm-like body of the ermine, 
still retaining between its teeth the half-devoured re- 
mains of the white-footed mouse ! A very chain of 
destroyers ! These creatures died as they had lived, 
preying one upon the other ! Of all four the little 
mouse alone was an innocent victim. The other three, 
though morally guilty by the laws of man, yet were 
only acting in obedience to the laws of Nature and 
necessity. Man himself obeys a similar law, as Basil 
had just shown. Philosophise as we will, we cannot 
comprehend why it is so — why Nature requires the 
sacrifice of one of her creatures for the sustenance of 
another. But although we cannot understand the 
cause, we must not condemn the fact as it exists ; nor 
must we suppose, as some do, that the destruction of 
God’s creatures for our necessities constitutes a crime. 
They who think so, and who, in consistency with their 
doctrines, confine themselves to what they term “ vege- 
348 


Hrctfc ffoj an& mbitc Molt 


table ” food, are at best but shallow reasoners. They 
have not studied Nature very closely, else would they 
know that every time they pluck up a parsnip, or draw 
their blade across the leaf of a lettuce, they cause pain 
and death ! How much pain we cannot tell ; but that 
the plant feels, as well as the animal, we can clearly 
prove. Probably it feels less, and it may be each kind 
of plant differs from others in the amount, according to 
its higher or lower organism. Probably its amount of 
pleasure — its capability of enjoyment — is in a direct 
proportion to the pain which it endures ; and it is 
highly probable that this double line of ratios runs in an 
ascending scale throughout the vegetable kingdom, 
gradually joining on to what is more strictly termed 
the “ animal.” But these mysteries of life, my young 
friend, will be interesting studies for you when your 
mind becomes matured. Perhaps it may be your for- 
tune to unravel some of them, for the benefit of your 
fellow-men. I feel satisfied that you will not only be a 
student of Nature, but one of her great teachers ; you 
will far surpass the author of this little book in your 
knowledge of Nature’s laws ; but it will always be a 
happiness to him to reflect, that, when far advanced 
upon the highway of science, you will look back to 
him as one you had passed upon the road, and who 
pointed you to the path. 

Though Basil had shot the wolf, it was plain that it 
was not the first nor yet the second time he had dis- 
349 


ZTbe WomQ IDo^a^eurs 


charged his rifle since leaving the camp. From his 
game-bag protruded the curving claws and wing-tips of , 
a great bird. In one hand he carried a white hare — 
not the Polar hare — but a much smaller kind, also an 
inhabitant of these snowy regions ; and over his 
shoulders was slung a fierce-looking creature, the great 
wild-cat or lynx of America {Lynx Canadensis). The 
bird in his bag was the golden eagle {Aquila chryscetos)^ 
one of the few feathered creatures that brave the fierce 
winter of a northern climate, and does not migrate, 
like its congeners the “white-head” and the osprey, 
to more southern regions. 

Basil had returned alone — for the three, Basil, Nor- 
man, and Francois, had taken different directions at 
setting out. This they had done, in order to have as 
great a number of chances as possible of finding the 
game. Norman came in a few minutes after, bear- 
ing a whole deer upon his shoulders — a glad sight that 
was — and, a short interval having passed, Frangois’ 
“ hurrah ” sounded upon their ears, and Frangois him- 
self was seen coming up the valley loaded like a little 
donkey with two bunches of large snow-white birds. 

The camp now exhibited a cheering sight. Such a 
variety was never seen in the larder of a palace kitchen. 
The ground was strewed with animals like a dead 
menagerie. There were no less than a dozen kinds 
upon it ! 

The hare-soup was now quite read}^, and was accord- 
350 


Hrctic mb Mbite Molf 


ingly served up by Lucien in the best style. lyUcien 
had dried a fresh ‘ ‘ grist ’ ’ of the tea-leaves, and a 
cheering cup followed ; and then the party all sat 
round their iog-fire, while each of them detailed the 
history of his experience since parting with the others. 

Francois was the first to relate what had befallen 
him. 


35T 


CHAPTER XXXV. 


THK JKRFAI^CON AND THF WHITK GROUSK. 

INK,” began Frangois, “was a bird adven- 



ture, as you all see — though what kind of 


birds I ’ve shot /can’t tell. One of them ’s a hawk, 
I ’m sure ; but it ’s a white hawk, and that I never saw 
before. The rest, I suppose, are white partridges. 
Everything appears to be white here. What are they, 
Luce?” 

“ You are right about this first,” answered Eucien, 
taking up one of the birds which Francois had brought 
back with him, and which was white all but a few spots 
of clove-brown upon its back. “This is a hawk, as 
you may tell, by its appearance, or rather I should say 
a ‘ falcon,’ for you must know there is a difference.” 

‘ ‘ What difference ? ’ ’ demanded Francois, with some 
eagerness of manner. 

‘ ‘ Why the principal difference is the formation of 
their beaks or bills. The bills of the true falcons are 
stronger, and have a notch in the lower mandible 
answering to a tooth in the upper one. Their nostrils, 
too, are differently formed. But another point of dis- 
tinction is found in their habits. Both feed on warm- 


'' Hlann Birt> anb Caribou 


and I crouched from hummock to hummock ; but the 
sharp-eyed creature caught sight of me, and came 
screeching over my head. I kept on without noticing 
it ; but as I was obliged to go round some large rocks, 
I lost the direction, and soon found myself wandering 
back into my own trail. I could do nothing, therefore, 
until the bird should leave me, and fly back to what- 
ever had first set it a-going. In order that it might do 
so, I crept in under a big stone that jutted out, and 
*lay quiet a bit, watching it. It soon flew off, and com- 
menced wheeling about in the air, not more than three 
hundred yards from where I lay. This time I took 
good bearings, and then went on. I did not care for 
the bird to guide me any longer, for I observed there 
was an open spot ahead, and I was sure that there I 
would see something. And sure enough I did. On 
peeping round the end of a rock, I spied a herd of 
about fifty deer. They were reindeer, of course, as 
there are no others upon the ‘ Barren Grounds, ’ and I 
saw they were all does — for at this season the bucks 
keep altogether in the woods. Some of them were 
pawing the snow to get at the moss, while others were 
standing by the rocks, and tearing off the lichens with 
their teeth. It so happened that I had the wind of 
them, else they would have scented me and made off, 
for I was within a hundred yards of the nearest. I was 
not afraid of their taking fright, so long as they could 
only see part of my body — for these deer are so stupid, 


Ube ^omQ IDopaoeura 


or rather so curious, that almost anything will draw 
them within shot. Knowing this, I practised a trick 
that had often helped me before ; and that was to move 
the barrel of my gun, up and down, with the same sort of 
motion as the deer make with their horns, when rub- 
bing their necks against a rock or tree. If I ’d had a 
set of antlers, it would have been all the better ; but 
the other answered well enough. It happened the 
animals were not very wild, as, likely, they had n’t 
been hunted for a good while. I bellowed at the same 
time, — for I know how to imitate their call— and, in less 
than a minute’s time, I got several of them within range. 
Then I took aim, and knocked one over, and the rest 
ran off. That,” said Norman, “ended adventure 
— unless you call the carrying a good hundred pounds 
weight of deer-meat all the way back to camp part of 
it. If so, I can assure you that it was by far the most 
unpleasant part. ’ ’ 

Here Norman finished his narration, and a conver- 
sation was carried on upon the subject of reindeer, or, 
as these animals are termed, in America, “caribou.” 

lyiicien said that the reindeer (Cervus tarandus) is 
found in the Northern regions of Europe and Asia as 
well as in America, but that there were several varieties 
of them, and perhaps there were different species. 
Those of Lapland are most celebrated, because they 
not only draw sledges, but also furnish food, clothing, 
and many other commodities for their owners. In the 


370 


Hlann ®irC) an^ Caribou 


north of Asia, the Tungusians have a much larger sort, 
which they ride upon ; and the Koreki, who dwell upon 
the borders of Kamschatka, possess vast herds of rein- 
deer — some rich individuals owming as many as ten or 
twenty thousand ! 

It is not certain that the reindeer of America is 
exactly the same as either of the kinds mentioned ; and 
indeed in America itself there are two very distinct 
kinds — perhaps a third. Two kinds are well known, 
that differ from each other in size, and also in habits. 
One is the “ Barren Ground caribou,” and the other, 
the “Woodland caribou.” The former is one of the 
smallest of the deer kind — the bucks weighing little 
over one hundred pounds. As its name implies, it 
frequents the Barren Grounds, although in ^winter it 
also seeks the shelter of wooded tracts. Upon the 
Barren Grounds, and the desolate shores and islands 
of the Arctic Sea, it is the only kind of deer found, 
except at one or two points, as the mouth of the Mac- 
kenzie River — which happens to be a wooded country, 
and there the moose also is met with. Nature seems 
to have gifted the Barren Ground caribou with such 
tastes and habits, that a fertile country and a genial 
clime would not be a pleasant home for it. It seems 
adapted to the bleak, sterile countries in which it dwells, 
and where its favourite food — the mosses and lichens — 
is found. In the short summer of the Arctic regions, 
it ranges still farther north ; and its traces have been 
371 


XT be ISoung Do^a^curs 


found wherever the Northern navigators have gone. 
It must remain among the icy islands of the Arctic Sea 
until winter be considerably advanced, or until the sea 
is so frozen as to allow it to get back to the shores of 
the continent. 

The “Woodland caribou” is a larger variety — a 
Woodland doe being about as big as a Barren Ground 
buck — although the horns of the latter spiecies are 
larger and more branching than those of the former. 
The Woodland kind are found around the shores of 
Hudson’s Bay, and in other wooded tracts that lie in 
the southern parts of the fur countries — into which the 
Barren Ground caribou never penetrates. They also 
migrate annually, but, strange to say, their spring mi- 
grations are southward, while, at the same season, 
their cousins of the Barren Grounds are making their 
way northward to the shores of the Arctic Sea. This 
is a very singular difference in their habits, and along 
with their difference in bulk, form, etc., entitles them 
to be ranked as separate species of deer. The flesh of 
the Woodland caribou is not esteemed so good an arti- 
cle of food as that of the other ; and, as it inhabits a 
district where many large animals are found, it is not 
considered of so much importance in the economy of 
human life. The “ Barren Ground caribou,” on the 
other hand, is an indispensable animal to various tribes 
of Indians, as well as to the Esquimaux. Without it, 
these people would be unable to dwell where they do ; 

372 


'' Hlarm JBirb anb Caribou 


and although they have not domesticated it, and trained 
it to draught, like the Laplanders, it forms th-eir main 
source of subsistence, and there is no part of its body 
which they do not turn to some useful purpose. Of its 
horns they form their fish-spears and hooks, and, pre- 
vious to the introduction of iron by the Europeans, 
their ice-chisels and various other utensils. Their scrap- 
ing or currying knives are made from the split shin- 
bones. The skins make their clothing, tent-covers, 
beds, and blankets. The raw hide, cleared of the hair 
and cut into thongs, serves for snares, bow-strings, net- 
lines, and every other sort of ropes. The finer thongs 
make netting for snow-shoes — an indispensable article 
to these people — and of these thongs fish-nets are also 
woven ; while the tendons of the muscles, when split, 
serve for fine sewing-thread. Besides these uses, the 
flesh of the caribou is the food of many tribes, Indians 
and Esquimaux, for most of the year ; and, indeed, it 
may be looked upon as their staple article of subsist- 
ence. There is hardly any part of it (even the horns, 
when soft) that is not eaten and relished by them. 
Were it not for the immense herds of these creatures 
that roam over the country, they would soon be exter- 
minated — for they are easily approached, and the In- 
dians have very little difficulty, during the summer 
season, in killing as many as they please. 

Norman next gave a description of the various modes 
of hunting the caribou practised by the Indians and 
373 


TLbc l^ouuQ IDo^aoeurs 


Esquimaux ; such as driving them into a pound, snar- 
ing them, decoying and shooting them with arrows, 
and also a singular way which the Esquimaux have of 
taking them in a pit-trap built in the snow. 

“ The sides of the trap,” said he, “ are built of slabs 
of snow, cut as if to make a snow-house. An inclined 
plane of snow leads to the entrance of the pit, which is 
about five feet deep, and large enough within to hold 
several deer. The exterior of the trap is banked up on 
all sides with snow ; but so steep are these sides left, 
that the deer can only get up by the inclined plane 
which leads to the entrance. A great slab of snow is 
then placed over the mouth of the pit, and revolves on 
two axles of wood. This slab will carry the deer until 
it has passed the line of the axles, when its weight 
overbalances one side, and the animal is precipitated 
into the pit. The slab then comes back into a horizon- 
tal position as before, and is ready to receive another 
deer. The animals are attracted by moss and lichens 
placed for them on the opposite side of the trap — in 
such a way, that they cannot be reached without cross- 
ing the slab. In this sort of trap several deer are fre- 
quently caught during a single day.” 

Norman knew another mode of hunting practised by 
the Esquimaux, and proposed that the party should 
proceed in search of the herd upon the following day ; 
when, should they succeed in finding the deer, he would 
show them how the thing was done ; and he had no 
374 


'‘Hlatm BtrC) an^ Caribou 


doubt of their being able to make a good hunt of it. 
All agreed to this proposal, as it would be of great im- 
portance to them to kill a large number of these ani- 
mals. It is true they had now provision enough to 
serve for several days — but there were perhaps months, 
not days, to be provided for. They believed that they 
could not be far from the wooded countries near the 
banks of the Mackenzie, as some kinds of the animal 
the}^ had met with were only to be found near timber 
during the winter season. But what of that ? Even 
on the banks of the great river itself they might not 
succeed in procuring game. They resolved, therefore, 
to track the herd of deer which Norman had seen ; and 
for this purpose they agreed to make a stay of some 
days at their present camp. 


375 


CHAPTER XXXVIIT. 


A BATTI^E WITH WOI.VKS. 

EXT morning they were up by early day-break. 



The days were now only a few hours in 


length, for it was mid- winter, and they were but three 
or four degrees south of the Arctic circle. Of course 
they would require all the day for the intended hunt 
of the caribou, as they might have to follow the track 
of the herd for many miles before coming up with the 
animals. Lucien was to remain by the camp, as it 
would never do to leave the animals they had already 
killed without some guard. To have hung them on 
the trees, would have put them out of the reach of 
both wolves and foxes ; but the lynx and wolverene 
are both tree-climbers, and could easily have got at 
them there. They had reason to believe there were 
wolverenes about ; for these fierce and destructive 
beasts are found in every part of the fur countries — 
W’herever there exist other animals upon which they 
can prey. Eagles, hawks, and owls, moreover, would 
have picked the partridges from the branches of the trees 
without difficulty. One proposed burying them in the 


376 


H Battle with Molves 


snow ; but Norman assured them that the Arctic foxes 
could scent them out, and dig them up in a few min- 
utes. Then it was suggested to cover them under a 
pile of stones, as there were plenty of these lying 
about. To this Norman also objected, saying that the 
wolverene could pull off any stones they were able to 
pile upon them — as this creature in its fore-legs pos- 
sesses more than the strength of a man. Besides, it 
was not unlikely that one of the great brown bears — 
a species entirely different from either the black or griz- 
zly bears, and which is only met with on the Barren 
Grounds — might come ranging that way ; and he 
could soon toss over any stone-heap they might build. 
On the whole it was better that one of the four should 
remain by the camp ; and Tucien, who cared less about 
hunting than any of them, willingly agreed to be the one. 

Their arrangements were soon completed, and the 
three hunters set out. They did not go straight 
towards the place where Norman had found the deer 
upon the preceding day, but took a cross-cut over the 
hills. This was by Norman’s advice, who guided 
himself by the wind — which had not changed since the 
previous day. He knew that the caribou in feeding 
always travel against the wind ; and he expected 
therefore to find them somewhere in the direction from 
which it was blowing. Following a course, which 
angled with that of the wind, they kept on, expecting 
soon to strike the trail of the herd. 

377 


Ubc Iffouna Do^ageurs 


Meanwhile, Lucien, left to himself, was not idle. 
He had to prepare the flesh of the different animals, so 
as to render it flt to be carried along. Nothing was 
required farther than to skin and cut them up. 
Neither salting nor drying was necessary, for the flesh 
of one and all had got frozen as stiff as a stone, and in 
this way it would keep during the whole winter. The 
wolf was skinned with the others, but this was because 
his fine skin was wanted. His flesh was not intended 
to be eaten — although only a day or two before any 
one of the party would have been glad of such a meal. 
Not only the Indians, but the voyageurs and fur-trad- 
ers, while journeying through these inhospitable wilds, 
are often but too delighted to get a dinner of wolf-meat. 
The ermine and the little mouse were the only other 
creatures of the collection that were deemed uneatable. 
As to the Arctic fox and the lynx, the flesh of both 
these creatures is highly esteemed, and is white and 
tender, almost as much so as the hares upon which 
they feed. The snowy owl too, the jerfalcon, and the 
eagle, were looked upon as part of the larder — the flesh 
of all being almost as good as that of the grouse. Had 
it been a fishing eagle — such as the bald-head — the 
case would have been different, for these last, on ac- 
count of their peculiar food, taste rank and disagree- 
able. But there was no danger of their falling in with 
a fishing eagle at that place. These can only exist 
where there is open water. Hence the cause of their 
378 


H :fiSattle wttb molvcs 


annual migrations to the southward, when the lakes 
and rivers of the fur countries become covered with 
their winter ice. 

Though Tucien remained quietly at the camp he was 
not without adventures to keep him from wearying. 
While he was singeing his grouse his eye happened to 
fall upon the shadow of a bird passing over the snow. 
On looking up he saw a very large bird, nearly as big 
as an eagle, flying softly about in wide circles. It was 
of a mottled-brown colour ; but its short neck and great 
round head told the naturalist at a glance that it was a 
bird of the owl genus. It was the largest of the kind 
that Tucien had ever seen, and was, in fact, the largest 
known in America — the “ great cinerous owl” (Strzx 
cinerea). Now and then it would alight upon a rock or 
tree, at the distance of an hundred yards or so from the 
camp ; where it would watch the operations of Tucien, 
evidently inclined to help him in dissecting some of the 
animals. Whenever he took up his gun and tried to 
approach within shot, it would rise into the air again, 
always keeping out of range. Lucien was provoked at 
this — for he wished, as a naturalist, to examine the 
bird, and for this purpose to kill it, of course ; but the 
owl seemed determined that he should do no such 
thing. 

At length, however, Tucien resolved upon a plan to 
decoy the creature within shot. Taking up one of the 
grouse, he flung it out upon the snow some thirty yards 
379 


Ube 13ouna IDo^gaaeurs 


from the fire. No sooner had he done so, than the owl, 
at sight of the tempting morsel, left aside both its shy- 
ness and prudence, and sailed gently forward ; then, 
hovering for a moment over the ground, hooked the 
grouse upon its claws, and was about to carry it off, 
when a bullet from Lucien’s rifle, just in the “ nick of 
time,” put a stop to its further flight, and dropped the 
creature dead upon the snow. 

lyucien picked it up and brought it to the camp, 
where he passed some time in making notes upon its 
size, colour, and other peculiarities. The owl measured 
exactly two feet in length from the point of the bill to 
the end of the tail ; and its ” alar spread,” as natural- 
ists term it, was full five feet in extent. It was of a 
clove-brown colour, beautifully mottled with white, and 
its bill and eyes were of a bright gamboge yellow. 
Like all of its tribe that winter in the Arctic wilds, it 
was feathered to the toes. Lucien reflected that this 
species lives more in the woods than the “great snowy 
owl,” and, as he had heard, is never found far out on 
the Barren Grounds during winter. This fact, there- 
fore, was a pleasant one to reflect upon, for it confirmed 
the testimony which the travellers had already obtained 
from several of the other creatures they had killed — 
that is to say, that they must be in the neighbourhood 
of some timbered country. 

Lucien had hardly finished his examination of the 
owl when he was called upon to witness another incident 
380 


H Battle with Molves 


of a much more exciting nature. A hill, as already men- 
tioned, or rather a ridge, rose up from the opposite 
shore of the lake by which the camp was pitched. The 
declivity of this hill fronted the lake, and sloped gradu- 
ally back from the edge of the water. Its whole face 
was smooth and treeless, covered with a layer of pure 
snow. The camp commanded a full view of it up to 
its very crest. 

As lyucien was sitting quietly by the fire a singular 
sound, or rather continuation of sounds, fell upon his 
ear. It somewhat resembled the baying of hounds at 
a distance ; and at first he was inclined to believe that 
it was Marengo on a view hunt after the deer. On 
listening more attentively, however, he observed that 
the sounds came from more than one animal ; and also, 
that they bore more resemblance to the howling of 
wolves than the deep- toned bay of a blood-hound. 
This, in fact, it was ; for the next moment a caribou 
shot up over the crest of the hill, and was seen stretch- 
ing at full gallop down the smooth declivity in the di- 
rection of the lake. Not twenty paces in its rear 
followed a string of howling animals, evidently in 
pursuit of it. There were a dozen of them in all, and 
they were running exactly like hounds upon the “ view 
holloa.” Lucien saw at a glance they were wolves. 
Most of them were dappled-grey and white, while 
some were of a pure white colour. Any one of them 
was nearly as large as the caribou itself ; for in these 
381 


Ubc JSouna Doi^aoeurs 


parts — around Great Slave Lake — the wolf grows to his 
largest size. 

The caribou gained upon them as it bounded down 
the slope of the hill. It was evidently making for the 
lake, believing, no doubt, that the black ice upon its 
surface was water, and that in that element it would 
have the advantage of its pursuers, for the caribou is 
a splendid swimmer. Nearly all deer when hunted 
take to the water — to throw off the dogs, or escape 
from men — and to this habit the reindeer makes no 
exception. 

Down the hill swept the chase, Lucien having a full 
view both of pursuers and pursued. The deer ran 
boldly. It seemed to have gathered fresh confidence at 
sight of the lake, while the same object caused its pur- 
suers a feeling of disappointment. They knew they 
were no match for a caribou in the water, as no doubt 
many a one had escaped them in that element. It is 
not likely, however, that they made reflections of this 
sort. There was but little time. From the moment of 
their appearance upon the crest of the hill till the chase 
arrived at the edge of the lake, was but a few seconds. 
On reaching the shore the caribou made no stop ; but 
bounded forward in the same way as if it had been 
springing upon water. Most likely it expected to hear 
a plunge ; but, instead of that, its hoofs came down 
upon the hard ice ; and, by the impulse thus given, the 
animal shot out with the velocity of a skater. Strange 
382 


H JBattle with Molves 


to say, it still kept its feet ; but, now seemingly over- 
come by surprivSe, and knowing the advantage its pur- 
suers would have over it upon the slippery ice, it began 
to plunge and flounder, and once or twice came to its 
knees. The hungry pursuers appeared to recognise 
their advantage at once, for their howling opened with 
a fresh burst, and they quickened their pace. Their 
sharp claws enabled them to gallop over the ice at top 
speed ; and one large brute that led the pack soon came 
up with the deer, sprang upon it, and bit it in the flank. 
This brought the deer upon its haunches, and at once 
put an end to the chase. The animal was hardly down 
upon the ice, when the foremost wolves coming up pre- 
cipitated themselves upon its body, and began to 
devour it. 

It was about the middle of the lake where the caribou 
had been overtaken. At the time it first reached the 
ice, Tucien had laid hold of his rifle and run forward 
in order to meet the animal half-way, and, if possible, 
get a shot at it. Now that the creature was killed, he 
continued on with the design of driving off the wolves, 
and securing the carcass of the deer for himself. He 
kept along the ice until he was within less than twenty 
yards of the pack, when, seeing that the fierce brutes 
had torn the deer to pieces, and perceiving, moreover, 
that they exhibited no fear of himself, he began to 
think he might be in danger by advancing any nearer. 
Perhaps a shot from his rifle would scatter them, and 
383 


tTbe ^onm Wopaaeuta 


without further reflection he raised the piece, and fired. 
One of the wolves kicked over upon the ice, and lay 
quite dead ; but the others, to Lucien’s great surprise, 
instead of being frightened off, immediately sprang 
upon their dead companion, and commenced tearing 
and devouring it, just as they had done the deer ! 

The sight filled Tucien with alarm ; which was in- 
creased at seeing several of the wolves — that had been 
beaten by the others from the quarry — commence mak- 
ing demonstrations towards himself ! Lucien now 
trembled for his safety, and no wonder. He was near 
the middle of the lake upon slippery ice. To attempt 
running back to the camp would be hazardous ; the 
wolves could overtake him before he had got half- 
way, and he felt certain that any signs of fear on his 
part would be the signal for the fierce brutes to assail 
him. 

For some moments he was irresolute how to act. 
He had commenced loading his gun, but his fingers 
were numbed with the cold, and it was a good while 
before he could get the piece ready for a second fire. 
He succeeded at length. He did not fire then, but 
resolved to keep the charge for a more desperate 
crisis. Could he but reach the camp there were trees 
near it, and one of these he might climb. This was 
his only hope, in case the wolves attacked him, and he 
knew it was. Instead of turning and running for this 
point, he began to back for it stealthily and with 
384 


alarm Blrb anb Caribou 


and I crouched from hummock to hummock ; but the 
sharp-eyed creature caught sight of me, and came 
screeching over my head. I kept on without noticing 
it ; but as I was obliged to go round some large rocks, 
I lost the direction, and soon found myself wandering 
back into my own trail. I could do nothing, therefore, 
until the bird should leave me, and fly back to what- 
ever had first set it a-going. In order that it might do 
so, I crept in under a big stone that jutted out, and 
lay quiet a bit, watching it. It soon flew off, and com- 
menced wheeling about in the air, not more than three 
hundred yards from where I lay. This time I took 
good bearings, and then went on. I did not care for 
the bird to guide me any longer, for I observed there 
was an open spot ahead, and I was sure that there I 
would see something. And sure enough I did. On 
peeping round the end of a rock, I spied a herd of 
about fifty deer. They were reindeer, of course, as 
there are no others upon the ‘ Barren Grounds,’ and I 
saw they were all does — for at this season the bucks 
keep altogether in the woods. Some of them were 
pawing the snow to get at the moss, while others were 
standing by the rocks, and tearing off the lichens with 
their teeth. It so happened that I had the wind of 
them, else they would have scented me and made off, 
for I was within a hundred yards of the nearest. I was 
not afraid of their taking fright, so long as they could 
only see part of my body — for these deer are so stupid. 


Ube 15 oung IDopageura 


or rather so curious, that almost anything will draw 
them within shot. Knowing this, I practised a trick 
that had often helped me before ; and that was to move 
the barrel of my gun, up and down, with the same sort of 
motion as the deer make with their horns, when rub- 
bing their necks against a rock or tree. If I ’d had a 
set of antlers, it would have been all the better ; but 
the other answered well enough. It happened the 
animals were not very wild, as, likely, they had n’t 
been hunted for a good while. I bellowed at the same 
time, — for I know how to imitate their call — and, in less 
than a minute’s time, I got several of them within range. 
Then I took aim, and knocked one over, and the rest 
ran off. That,” said Norman, “ended my adventure 
— unless you call the carrying a good hundred pounds 
weight of deer-meat all the way back to camp part of 
it. If so, I can assure you that it was by far the most 
unpleasant part. ’ ’ 

Here Norman finished his narration, and a conver- 
sation was carried on upon the subject of reindeer, or, 
as these animals are termed, in America, “caribou.” 

Tucien said that the reindeer (Cervus tarandus) is 
found in the Northern regions of Europe and Asia as 
well as in America, but that there were several varieties 
of them, and perhaps there were different species. 
Those of Lapland are most celebrated, because they 
not only draw sledges, but also furnish food, clothing, 
and many other commodities for their owners. In the 
370 


'' Hlarm '' ant) Caribou 


north of Asia, the Tungusians have a much larger sort, 
which they ride upon ; and the Koreki, who dwell upon 
the borders of Kamschatka, possess vast herds of rein- 
deer — some rich individuals owning as many as ten or 
twenty thousand ! 

It is not certain that the reindeer of America is 
exactly the same as either of the kinds mentioned ; and 
indeed in America itself there are two very distinct 
kinds — perhaps a third. Two kinds are well known, 
that differ from each other in size, and also in habits. 
One is the “ Barren Ground caribou,” and the other, 
the “Woodland caribou.” The former is one of the 
smallest of the deer kind — the bucks weighing little 
over one hundred pounds. As its name implies, it 
frequents the Barren Grounds, although in winter it 
also seeks the shelter of wooded tracts. Upon the 
Barren Grounds, and the desolate shores and islands 
of the Arctic Sea, it is the only kind of deer found, 
except at one or two points, as the mouth of the Mac- 
kenzie River — which happens to be a wooded country, 
and there the moose also is met with. Nature seems 
to have gifted the Barren Ground caribou with such 
tastes and habits, that a fertile country and a genial 
clime would not be a pleasant home for it. It seems 
adapted to the bleak, sterile countries in which it dwells, 
and where its favourite food — the mosses and lichens — 
is found. In the short summer of the Arctic regions, 
it ranges still farther north ; and its traces have been 
371 


Ubc 13 oung IDo^aaeurs 


found wherever the Northern navigators have gone. 
It must remain among the icy islands of the Arctic Sea 
until winter be considerably advanced, or until the sea 
is so frozen as to allow it to get back to the shores of 
the continent. 

The “Woodland caribou” is a larger variety — a 
Woodland doe being about as big as a Barren Ground 
buck — although the horns of the latter spiecies are 
larger and more branching than those of the former. 
The Woodland kind are found around the shores of 
Hudson’s Bay, and in other wooded tracts that lie in 
the southern parts of the fur countries — into which the 
Barren Ground caribou never penetrates. They also 
migrate annually, but, strange to say, their spring mi- 
grations are southward, while, at the same season, 
their cousins of the Barren Grounds are making their 
way northward to the shores of the Arctic Sea. This 
is a very singular difference in their habits, and along 
with their difference in bulk, form, etc., entitles them 
to be ranked as separate species of deer. The flesh of 
the Woodland caribou is not esteemed so good an arti- 
cle of food as that of the other ; and, as it inhabits a 
district where many large animals are found, it is not 
considered of so much importance in the economy of 
human life. The “ Barren Ground caribou,” on the 
other hand, is an indispensable animal to various tribes 
of Indians, as well as to the Esquimaux. Without it, 
these people would be unable to dwell where they do ; 
372 


'*Hlann Birb'* anb Caribou 


and although they have not domesticated it, and trained 
it to draught, like the I^aplaiiders, it forms their main 
source of subsistence, and there is no part of its body 
which they do not turn to some useful purpose. Of its 
horns they form their fish-spears and hooks, and, pre- 
vious to the introduction of iron by the Europeans, 
their ice-chisels and various other utensils. Their scrap- 
ing or currying knives are made from the split shin- 
bones. The skins make their clothing, tent-covers, 
beds, and blankets. The raw hide, cleared of the hair 
and cut into thongs, serves for snares, bow-strings, net- 
lines, and every other sort of ropes. The finer thongs 
make netting for snow-shoes — an indispensable article 
to these people — and of these thongs fish-nets are also 
woven ; while the tendons of the muscles, when split, 
serve for fine sewing-thread. Besides these uses, the 
flesh of the caribou is the food of many tribes, Indians 
and Esquimaux, for most of the year ; and, indeed, it 
may be looked upon as their staple article of subsist- 
ence. There is hardly any part of it (even the horns, 
when soft) that is not eaten and relished by them. 
Were it not for the immense herds of these creatures 
that roam over the country, they would soon be exter- 
minated — for they are easily approached, and the In- 
dians have very little difficulty, during the summer 
season, in killing as many as they please. 

Norman next gave a description of the various modes 
of hunting the caribou practised by the Indians and 
373 


Zbc l^ouno IDo^a^euts 


Esquimaux ; such as driving them into a pound, snar- 
ing them, decoying and shooting them with arrows, 
and also a singular way which the Esquimaux have of 
taking them in a pit-trap built in the snow. 

“ The sides of the trap,” said he, “ are built of slabs 
of snow, cut as if to make a snow-house. An inclined 
plane of snow leads to the entrance of the pit, which is 
about five feet deep, and large enough within to hold 
several deer. The exterior of the trap is banked up on 
all sides with snow ; but so steep are these sides left, 
that the deer can only get up by the inclined plane 
which leads to the entrance. A great slab of snow is 
then placed over the mouth of the pit, and revolves on 
two axles of wood. This slab will carry the deer until 
it has passed the line of the axles, when its weight 
overbalances one side, and the animal is precipitated 
into the pit. The slab then comes back into a horizon- 
tal position as before, and is ready to receive another 
deer. The animals are attracted by moss and lichens 
placed for them on the opposite side of the trap — in 
such a way, that they cannot be reached without cross- 
ing the slab. In this sort of trap several deer are fre- 
quently caught during a single day.” 

Norman knew another mode of hunting practised by 
the Esquimaux, and proposed that the party should 
proceed in search of the herd upon the following day ; 
when, should they succeed in finding the deer, he would 
show them how the thing was done ; and he had no 
374 


** Hlann auD Caribou 


doubt of their being able to make a good hunt of it. 
All agreed to this proposal, as it would be of great im- 
portance to them to kill a large number of these ani- 
mals. It is true they had now provision enough to 
serve for several days — but there were perhaps months, 
not days, to be provided for. They believed that they 
could not be far from the wooded countries near the 
banks of the Mackenzie, as some kinds of the animal 
the}^ had met with were only to be found near timber 
during the winter season. But what of that ? Even 
on the banks of the great river itself they might not 
succeed in procuring game. They resolved, therefore, 
to track the herd of deer which Norman had seen ; and 
for this purpose they agreed to make a stay of some 
days at their present camp. 


375 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 


A BATTI,^ WITH WOTVEJS. 

EXT morning they were up by early day-break. 



The days were now only a few hours in 


length, for it was mid- winter, and they were but three 
or four degrees south of the Arctic circle. Of course 
they would require all the day for the intended hunt 
of the caribou, as they might have to follow the track 
of the herd for many miles before coming up with the 
animals. Eucien was to remain by the camp, as it 
would never do to leave the animals they had already 
killed without some guard. To have hung them on 
the trees, would have put them out of the reach of 
both wolves and foxes ; but the lynx and wolverene 
are both tree-climbers, and could easily have got at 
them there. They had reason to believe there were 
wolverenes about ; for these fierce and destructive 
beasts are found in every part of the fur countries — 
wherever there exist other animals upon which they 
can prey. Eagles, hawks, and owls, moreover, would 
have picked the partridges from the branches of the trees 
without difiiculty. One proposed burying them in the 


376 


H Battle with Mol\>es 


snow ; but Norman assured them that the Arctic foxes 
could scent them out, and dig them up in a few min- 
utes. Then it was suggested to cover them under a 
pile of stones, as there were plenty of these lying 
about. To this Norman also objected, saying that the 
wolverene could pull off any stones they were able to 
pile upon them — as this creature in its fore-legs pos- 
sesses more than the strength of a man. Besides, it 
was not unlikely that one of the great brown bears — 
a species entirely different from either the black or griz- 
zly bears, and which is only met with on the Barren 
Grounds — might come ranging that way ; and he 
could soon toss over any stone-heap they might build. 
On the whole it was better that one of the four should 
remain by the camp ; and Tucien, who cared less about 
hunting than any of them, willingly agreed to be the one. 

Their arrangements were soon completed, and the 
three hunters set out. They did not go straight 
towards the place where Norman had found the deer 
upon the preceding day, but took a cross-cut over the 
hills. This was by Norman’s advice, who guided 
himself by the wind — which had not changed since the 
previous da}^ He knew that the caribou in feeding 
always travel against the wind ; and he expected 
therefore to find them somewhere in the direction from 
which it was blowing. Following a course, which 
angled with that of the wind, they kept on, expecting 
soon to strike the trail of the herd. 


377 


Ubc 19 ouno IDo^a^eurs 


Meanwhile, Lucien, left to himself, was not idle. 
He had to prepare the flesh of the different animals, so 
as to render it flt to be carried along. Nothing was 
required farther than to skin and cut them up. 
Neither salting nor drying was necessary, for the flesh 
of one and all had got frozen as stiff* as a stone, and in 
this way it would keep during the whole winter. The 
wolf was skinned with the others, but this was because 
his fine skin was wanted. His flesh was not intended 
to be eaten — although only a day or two before any 
one of the party would have been glad of such a meal. 
Not only the Indians, but the voyageurs and fur-trad- 
ers, while journeying through these inhospitable wilds, 
are often but too delighted to get a dinner of wolf-meat. 
The ermine and the little mouse were the only other 
creatures of the collection that were deemed uneatable. 
As to the Arctic fox and the lynx, the flesh of both 
these creatures is highly esteemed, and is white and 
tender, almost as much so as the hares upon which 
they feed. The snowy owl too, the jerfalcon, and the 
eagle, were looked upon as part of the larder — the flesh 
of all being almost as good as that of the grouse. Had 
it been a fishing eagle — such as the bald-head — the 
case would have been different, for these last, on ac- 
count of their peculiar food, taste rank and disagree- 
able. But there was no danger of their falling in with 
a fishing eagle at that place. These can only exist 
where there is ope?i water. Hence the cause of their 
378 


H Battle with Molves 


annual migrations to the southward, when the lakes 
and rivers of the fur countries become covered with 
their winter ice. 

Though Ivucien remained quietly at the camp he was 
not without adventures to keep him from wearying. 
While he was singeing his grouse his eye happened to 
fall upon the shadow of a bird passing over the snow. 
On looking up he saw a very large bird, nearly as big 
as an eagle, flying softly about in wide circles. It was 
of a mottled-brown colour ; but its short neck and great 
round head told the naturalist at a glance that it was a 
bird of the owl genus. It was the largest of the kind 
that IvUcien had ever seen, and was, in fact, the largest 
known in America — the “ great cinerous owl” (Strix 
cinerea). Now and then it would alight upon a rock or 
tree, at the distance of an hundred yards or so from the 
camp ; where it would watch the operations of Tucien, 
evidently inclined to help him in dissecting some of the 
animals. Whenever he took up his gun and tried to 
approach within shot, it would rise into the air again, 
always keeping out of range. Tucien was provoked at 
this — for he wished, as a naturalist, to examine the 
bird, and for this purpose to kill it, of course ; but the 
owl seemed determined that he should do no such 
thing. 

At length, however, lyucien resolved upon a plan to 
decoy the creature within shot. Taking up one of the 
grouse, he flung it out upon the snow some thirty yards 
379 


XTbe ^o\xm DopaGCurs 


from the fire. No sooner had he done so, than the owl, 
at sight of the tempting morsel, left aside both its shy- 
ness and prudence, and sailed gently forward ; then, 
hovering for a moment over the ground, hooked the 
grouse upon its claws, and was about to carry it off, 
when a bullet from lyucien’s rifle, just in the “ nick of 
time,” put a stop to its further flight, and dropped the 
creature dead upon the snow. 

Lucien picked it up and brought it to the camp, 
where he passed some time in making notes upon its 
size, colour, and other peculiarities. The owl measured 
exactly two feet in length from the point of the bill to 
the end of the tail ; and its ” alar spread,” as natural- 
ists term it, was full five feet in extent. It was of a 
clove-brown colour, beautifully mottled with white, and 
its bill and eyes were of a bright gamboge yellow. 
Like all of its tribe that winter in the Arctic wilds, it 
was feathered to the toes. Lucien reflected that this 
species lives more in the woods than the ‘ ‘ great snowy 
owl,” and, as he had heard, is never found far out on 
the Barren Grounds during winter. This fact, there- 
fore, was a pleasant one to reflect upon, for it confirmed 
the testimony which the travellers had already obtained 
from several of the other creatures they had killed — 
that is to say, that they must be in the neighbourhood 
of some timbered country. 

Lucien had hardly finished his examination of the 
owl when he was called upon to witness another incident 
380 


H Battle with Moires 


of a much more exciting nature. A hill, as already men- 
tioned, or rather a ridge, rose up from the opposite 
shore of the lake by which the camp was pitched. The 
declivity of this hill fronted the lake, and sloped gradu- 
ally back from the edge of the water. Its whole face 
was smooth and treeless, covered with a layer of pure 
snow. The camp commanded a full view of it up to 
its very crest. 

As Tucien was sitting quietly by the fire a singular 
sound, or rather continuation of sounds, fell upon his 
ear. It somewhat resembled the baying of hounds at 
a distance ; and at first he was inclined to believe that 
it was Marengo on a view hunt after the deer. On 
listening more attentively, however, he observed that 
the sounds came from more than one animal ; and also, 
that they bore more resemblance to the howling of 
wolves than the deep-toned bay of a blood-hound. 
This, in fact, it was ; for the next moment a caribou 
shot up over the crest of the hill, and was seen stretch- 
ing at full gallop down the smooth declivity in the di- 
rection of the lake. Not twenty paces in its rear 
followed a string of howling animals, evidently in 
pursuit of it. There were a dozen of them in all, and 
they were running exactly like hounds upon the “ view 
holloa.” Tucien saw at a glance they were wolves. 
Most of them were dappled-grey and white, while 
some were of a pure white colour. Any one of them 
was nearly as large as the caribou itself; for in these 
381 


XTbe ^oxxm tDo^aoeiirs 


parts — around Great Slave Lake— the wolf grows to his 
largest size. 

The caribou gained upon them as it bounded down 
the slope of the hill. It was evidently making for the 
lake, believing, no doubt, that the black ice upon its 
surface was water, and that in that element it would 
have the advantage of its pursuers, for the caribou is 
a splendid swimmer. Nearly all deer when hunted 
take to the water — to throw off the dogs, or escape 
from men — and to this habit the reindeer makes no 
exception. 

Down the hill swept the chase, Lucien having a full 
view both of pursuers and pursued. The deer ran 
boldly. It .seemed to have gathered fresh confidence at 
sight of the lake, while the same object caused its pur- 
suers a feeling of disappointment. They knew they 
were no match for a caribou in the water, as no doubt 
many a one had escaped them in that element. It is 
not likely, however, that they made reflections of this 
sort. There was but little time. From the moment of 
their appearance upon the crest of the hill till the chase 
arrived at the edge of the lake, was but a few seconds. 
On reaching the shore the caribou made no stop ; but 
bounded forward in the same way as if it had been 
springing upon water. Most likely it expected to hear 
a plunge ; but, instead of that, its hoofs came down 
upon the hard ice ; and, by the impulse thus given, the 
animal shot out with the velocity of a skater. Strange 
382 


H JSattle with MolveB 


to say, it still kept its feet ; but, now seemingly over- 
come by surprise, and knowing the advantage its pur- 
suers would have over it upon the slippery ice, it began 
to plunge and flounder, and once or twice came to its 
knees. The hungry pursuers appeared to recognise 
their advantage at once, for their howling opened with 
a fresh burst, and they quickened their pace. Their 
sharp claws enabled them to gallop over the ice at top 
speed ; and one large brute that led the pack soon came 
up with the deer, sprang upon it, and bit it in the flank. 
This brought the deer upon its haunches, and at once 
put an end to the chase. The animal was hardly down 
upon the ice, when the foremost wolves coming up pre- 
cipitated themselves upon its body, and began to 
devour it. 

It was about the middle of the lake where the caribou 
had been overtaken. At the time it first reached the 
ice, lyucien had laid hold of his rifle and run forward 
in order to meet the animal half-way, and, if possible, 
get a shot at it. Now that the creature was killed, he 
continued on with the design of driving off the wolves, 
and securing the carcass of the deer for himself. He 
kept along the ice until he was within less than twenty 
yards of the pack, when, seeing that the fierce brutes 
had torn the deer to pieces, and perceiving, moreover, 
that they exhibited no fear of himself, he began to 
think he might be in danger by advancing SLuy nearer. 
Perhaps a shot from his rifle would scatter them, and 
383 


tlbe ^onm Wo^aoeut^ 


without further reflection he raised the piece, and fired. 
One of the wolves kicked over upon the ice, and lay 
quite dead ; but the others, to lyiicien’s great surprise, 
instead of being frightened off, immediately sprang 
upon their dead companion, and commenced tearing 
and devouring it, just as they had done the deer ! 

The sight filled Tucien with alarm ; which was in- 
creased at seeing several of the wolves — that had been 
beaten by the others from the quarry — commence mak- 
ing demonstrations towards himself ! Lucien now 
trembled for his safety, and no wonder. He was near 
the middle of the lake upon slippery ice. To attempt 
running back to the camp would be hazardous ; the 
wolves could overtake him before he had got half- 
way, and he felt certain that any signs of fear on his 
part would be the signal for the fierce brutes to assail 
him. 

For some moments he was irresolute how to act. 
He had commenced loading his gun, but his fingers 
were numbed with the cold, and it was a good wdiile 
before he could get the piece ready for a second fire. 
He succeeded at length. He did not fire then, but 
resolved to keep the charge for a more desperate 
crisis. Could he but reach the camp there were trees 
near it, and one of these he might climb. This was 
his only hope, in case the wolves attacked him, and he 
knew it was. Instead of turning and running for this 
point, he began to back for it stealthily and with 
384 


H Battle with Ximolves 


caution, keeping his front all the while towards the 
wolves, and his eyes fixed upon them. He had not 
got many yards, when he perceived to his horror, that 
the whole pack were in motion, and coming after him ! 
It was a terrible sight, and lyucien, seeing that by re- 
treating he only drew them on, stopped and held his 
rifle in a threatening attitude. The wolves were now 
within twenty yards of him ; but, instead of moving 
ail}" longer directly towards him, they broke into two 
lines, swept past on opposite sides of him, and then 
circling round, met each other in his rear. His retreat 
was cnt off ! 

He now stood upon the ice with the fierce wolves 
forming a ring around him, whose diameter was not 
the six lengths of his gun, and every moment growing 
shorter and shorter. The prospect was appalling. It 
would have caused the stoutest heart to quail, and Tu- 
cien’s was terrified. He shouted at the top of his 
voice. He fired his rifle at the nearest. The brute fell, 
but the others showed no symptoms of fear ; they only 
grew more furious. Lucien clubbed his gun — the last 
resort in such cases — -and laid around him with all his 
might ; but he was in danger of slipping upon the ice, 
and his efforts were feeble. Once down he never would 
have risen again, for his fierce assailants would have 
sprung upon him like tigers. As it was, he felt but 
little hope. He believed himself lost. The teeth of 
the ferocious monsters gleamed under his eyes. He 


TLbc louiuj IDopageurs 


v/as growing weaker and weaker, yet still he battled 
on, and swept his gun around him with the energy of 
despair. 

Such a struggle could not have continued much 
longer. lyucien’s fate would have been sealed in a very 
few minutes more, had not relief arrived in some shape 
or other. But it did come. A loud shout was heard 
upon the hill ; and Lucien, glancing suddenly towards 
it, saw several forms rushing downward to the lake. 
It was the hunting party returned, and in a moment 
more they were crossing the ice to his rescue. Lucien 
gaining confidence fought with fresh vigour. The 
wolves busy in their attack had either not heard or 
were regardless of the new-comers ; but the “ crack, 
crack ” of the guns — repeated no less than four times 
— and then the nearer reports of pistols, made a speedy 
impression upon the brutes, and in a short while half 
their number were seen tumbling and kicking upon the 
ice. The rest, uttering their hideous howls, took to 
flight, and soon disappeared from the valley ; and lyU- 
cien, half dead with fatigue, staggered into the arms of 
his deliverers. 

No less than seven of the wolves were killed in the 
affray — two of which Tucien had shot himself. One 
or two were only wounded, but so badly, that they 
could not get away ; and these were handed over to 
the tender mercies of Marengo, who amused himself 
for some time after by worrying them to death. 

386 


H with Molves 


The hunting party had made a good day of it. They 
had fallen in with the caribou, and had killed three of 
them. These they were bringing to camp, but had 
dropped them upon the hill, on perceiving the perilous 
position of Lucien. They now went back, and having 
carried the deer to their camping-place, were soon en- 
gaged in the pleasant occupation of eating a savoury 
dinner. Lucien soon recovered from his. fright and 
fatigue, and amused his companions by giving an ac- 
count of the ^d.ventures that had befallen him in their 
;\bs^nce. 


387 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 


END OF THE “voyage.” 

UR party remained several days at this place 



until they had made a fresh stock of ‘ ‘ pemmi- 


can ’ ’ from the flesh of the caribou, several more of 
which they succeeded in killing ; and then, arranging 
everything anew, and taking with them such skins as 
they wanted, they continued their journey. 

They had two days hard travelling through a rocky 
mountainous country, where they could not find a stick 
of wood to cook their meals with, and w^ere exposed to 
cold more than at any other place. Both Francois and 
Eucien had their faces frost-bitten ; but they were 
cured by Norman, who prevented them from going near 
a fire until he had well rubbed the parts with soft snow. 

The rocks through which they passed were in many 
places covered with the tripe de roche {Gyrophora) of 
several species ; but our voyageurs cared nothing 
about it so long as their pemniican lasted, and of that 
each of them had nearly as much as he could carry. 

In the most dreary part of the mountains they 
chanced upon a herd of those curious animals, the 


388 


iBn^ of tbe 


musk-oxen, and shot one of them ; but the meat tasted 
so rank, and smelt so strongly of musk, that the whole 
of it w'as left to the wolves, foxes, and other preying 
creatures of these parts. 

On the third day, after leaving their camp by the 
lake, a pleasant prospect opened before them. It was 
the valley of the Mackenzie, stretching to the west, and 
extending north and south as far as the eye could 
reach, covered with forests of pine and poplar, and 
other large trees. Of course the landscape was a win- 
ter one, as the river was bound up in ice, and the trees 
themselves were half- white with frozen snow ; but after 
the dreary scenery of the Barren Grounds, even this 
appeared warm and summer-like. There was no 
longer any danger they .should be without a good fire 
to cook their dinners or warm themselves at, and a 
wooded country offers a better prospect of game. The 
sight, therefore, of a great forest was cheering ; and 
our travellers, in high spirits, planted their tent upon 
the banks of the great Northern river. They had still 
many hundred miles to go before arriving at their des- 
tination ; but they determined to continue their jour- 
ney without much delay, following the river as a guide. 
No more “ near cuts” were to be taken in future. 
They had learned, from their recent experience, that 
” the shortest way across is sometimes the longest way 
round,” and they resolved to profit by the lesson. I 
hope, boy reader, you too will remember it. 

389 


XTbe ISoung Do^aoeurs 


After reaching the Mackenzie the voyageurs halted 
one day, and upon the next commenced their journey 
down-stream. Sometimes they kept upon the bank, 
but at times, for a change, they travelled upon the ice 
of the river. There was no danger of its giving way 
under them, for it was more than a foot in thickness, 
and would have supported a loaded waggon and horses, 
without even cracking. 

They were now drawing near the Arctic circle, and 
the days grew shorter as they advanced. But this did 
not much interfere with their travelling. The long 
nights of the Polar regions are not like those of more 
Southern latitudes. They are sometimes so clear, that 
one may read the smallest print. What with the cor- 
uscations of the aurora borealis, and the cheerful 
gleaming of the Northern constellations, one may 
travel without difficulty throughout the livelong night. 
I am sure, my young friend, you have made good use 
of your globes, and need not be told that the length of 
both nights and days, as you approach the pole, de- 
pends upon two things — the latitude of the place, and 
the season of the year ; and were you to spend a whole 
year leaning against the pole itself^ (.') you would live 
but one day and one night — each of them six months in 
length. 

But no doubt you know all these things without my 
telling you of them, and you are impatient to hear not 
about that, but whether the young voyageurs safely 
390 


]£n^ ot tbe '' IDopaoe ” 


reached the end of their journey. That question I 
answer briefly at once— they did. 

Some distance below the point where they had struck 
the Mackenzie, they fell in with a winter encampment 
of Dog-rib Indians. Some of these people had been to 
the Fort to trade ; and Norman being known to them, 
he and his Southern coUvSins were received with much 
hospitality. All their wants were provided for, as far 
as it lay in the power of these poor people to do ; but 
the most valuable thing obtained from the Indians was 
a full set of dogs and dog-sledges for the whole party. 
These were furnished by the chief, upon the under- 
standing that he should be paid for them on his next 
visit to the Fort. Although the reindeer of North 
America are not trained to the sledge by the Esqui- 
maux and Indians, several kinds of dogs are ; and a 
single pair of these faithful creatures will draw a full- 
grown man at a rate that exceeds almost every other 
mode of travelling — steam excepted. When our voya- 
geurs, therefore, flung away their snow-shoes, and, 
wrapped in their skin cloaks, seated themselves snugly 
in their dog-sledges, the five hundred miles that sepa- 
rated them from the Fort were soon reduced to nothing ; 
and one afternoon, four small sledges, each carrying a 
“young voyageur,” with a large bloodhound gallop- 
ing in the rear, were seen driving up to the stockade 
fence surrounding the Fort. Before they had quite 
reached the gate, there was a general rush of trappera, 


391 


Ubc ISouuG IDo^ageurs 


traders, voyageurs, coureurs-des-bois, and other employis^ 
to reach them ; and the next moment they were lost in 
the midst of the people who crowded out of the Fort to 
welcome them. This was their hour of happiness and 
joy. 

To me there is an hour of regret, and I hope, boy 
reader, to you as well — the hour of our parting with 
the “ Young Voyagkurs.” 

THE KND. 


392 


Bo? with an llbea Series. 


The Young Mechanic: Practical Carpentry. Py John 
Lukin. Illustrated. 8° . . . . . $i 75 

“ A work of greater practical value than many more pretentious works, 
and although prepared for the instruction of boys mechanically inclined, 
many a full-grown artisan will profit by its perusal.” — A merican A rtisan. 

Amongst Machines. By the author of “ The Young Me- 
chanic.” Illustrated. S'* . . . . • $i 75 

“ A book of wondrous fascination, written In a clear, bright, pointed 
style. A volume to be commended above a dozen stories.” — Boston 
Traveller. 

The Boy Engineers : What They Did and How They Did 
It. By the author of “The Young Mechanic.” Illus- 
trated. 8° . . . . . . . . $1 75 

“ A book of a class that can only be praised ; the style is simple and 
easy, but manly and thoughtful.” — Literary World. 

The Boy with an Idea. By Mrs. Eiloart. Illustrated. 
8“ 50 

“ An exceptionally attractive and wholesome book, that will fascinate 
all the bright boys, and stir up the dull ones.” — Boston Journal. 

Learning to Draw ; or, the Story of a Young Designer. 

By Viollet Le-Duc. Illustrated. 8"^ . . . $2 00 

“ Teachers of art, both general and technical, and, for that matter, 
teachers of any subjects, will find this volume of Viollet Le-Duc of no little 
service in suggesting methods of instruction.” — Translator' s Preface. 

The set, five volumes in a box . . . . $8 00 


G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS 

New York and London 


BY ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS, 


IbiStOriC Their Endeavors, Their Achievements, and 

Their Times. With 29 full-page illustrations. 8°, pp. viii. -f- 
259 $1.50 

“ Told with a spirit that makes them capital reading for boys. Mr. Brooks 
writes in a clear and vivacious English, and has caught the art of throwing into 
high relief the salient point of his stoxi&s." —Christian Union. 

IbiStOriC ( 5 irl 0 . stories of Girls Who have Influenced the His- 
tory of Their Times. 8°, illustrated, pp. viii. -H 225. $1.50 

“ The stories are worth telling on their own account, and will serve at once to 
give their young readers some knowledge, and to quicken the historical imagina- 
tion.” — N. Y. Evening Post. 

CblVallTC and Youthful Deeds. Stirring stories, presenting 

faithful pictures of historic times. Illustrated, 8° . $1.50 

” The historic episodes upon which these stories are based are well chosen, and 
handled with considerable skill and picturesqueness .” — Mail and Express. 

IbCrOiC IbappCllillQS, Told in Verse and Story. Illustrated, 
8° $1.50 

“ Told in a manner to elicit and hold the attention of both younger and older 
readers. . . . The book possesses the fascination of fiction, while imparting 

the facts of history.” — Chautauquan. 

(Brest S 0 n 6 , Stories of the Sons of Great Men from 

Socrates to Napoleon. Fully illustrated, 8° . . $1.50 

Including the Sons of Socrates, Alexander, Cicero, Marcus Aure- 
lius, Mahomet, Charlemagne, Alfred, William the Conqueror, Sala- 
din, Dante, Tamerlane, Columbus, Luther, Shakespeare, Crom'well, 
Peter the Great, Napoleon. 

tlbC 'HlHslIS. An American Boy’s Adventures in Greece. 

A Story of Digging and Discovery, Temples and Treasures. 
By E. S. Brooks and John Alden. Illustrated by George Foster 
Barnes. 8° $ 


G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS, New York and London 


LBFe 10 







' ?; -/t'-c >' .Vf,"'f’''' • 

C^*jKVnV9^^^B[T^i' i < ' • v*T > 

\* ‘V / * • *' ii • r^- /** 

3<v;,/-..;,'.''''iV.'<- “ '• ■ 



« ^ 


,r > 


ii4^nr.TWw^ /f ‘ .'.»'• - • f> ■■ ■'^^’ • 

' V I *J. ’ ‘ -try/' ^ 


* . 



*i^u I > ’ f ^ • j* . . • , 





:v 5 ». 



••^ -m 


m 



m. . 

f^V' ■*;' 



.ipf 


' > 



► # . ^ 


fi -i;'^-.. ■' '■"!,;! 



,* 


1 1 



jii-t •;.>- ..H' 


^ v: 't ^ 4 :* 

' ifL. • ‘|. ■■' «’^r •’* 

i.'».'.v t->- vi. ‘V ■ 


I 







n * * 



Sjjv . 

S 


• -« 



-s. ^VV-' V-1 


^’l ,.’ 



V rt 


•W 


X*.: - 


■•♦' *' • ^. ■ 1^* j»i k t ' 

V. ■ . • - • ■• *ii ., '/ 


r* 




- • ‘i • _*£'• " 1 








■ fe;i . - 


>T , 




‘t V. 



A< * 


\k \ 




•\'> 









^V,->- '^'W? • ■ ••■ 


* ' *'^»' • !' *"S * .•* ■. . I ••■ J o‘. 


\vW. 





% 


* 


. » 



/ 


- - • 



